


The Final Price

by ScarletRaven1001



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dark, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Horror, Romance, Smut, Triggers, Vegebul, tpthvegebulmayhem2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletRaven1001/pseuds/ScarletRaven1001
Summary: *WINNER OF THE TPTH VEGEBUL MAYHEM 2018*Bulma’s life is in shambles. After a fund scandal landed her father in jail and the government froze all of her family’s assets, she is now stuck trying to take care of her ailing mother, while unable to find a decent job due to her family’s ruined reputation.She is beginning to truly lose hope, until she comes upon a magical artifact that can summon Prince Vegeta, a powerful demonic spirit that could grant her any wish… for a price.And the price he asks from her, is one she does not expect, and one that she is not sure she can give.





	1. The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I am so happy to finally be able to reveal to you my entry for the 2018 Vegebul Mayhem! It was so challenging and so much fun, and I am hoping that you would enjoy this story as much as I loved writing it.  
> This story has already been completed over the course of the event, but the ones I will be posting now have been proofread and edited now, with some slight additions.  
> Anyone out there who read this story from Mayhem? Did you suspect it was me? Heehee.  
> On with the story, and as always, any feedback will be greatly appreciated!
> 
> Disclaimer: The following story is fan-made. All characters within, and the entire Dragon Ball series, are not mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Harsh language; Mentions of Disease and Physical Injury

 

 

 

She smelled of grease, sweat, and stale cheese.

At first, Bulma had found the scents absolutely nauseating, but her desperation and lack of options have quickly helped her get used to what has now become her status quo.

She smiled bitterly as she remembered the smell of the authentic leather bags, designer perfumes and expensive truffle that she had grown up with, things she had taken for granted, things she had believed would always be at her disposal…

She had, after all, been raised filthy rich.

Filthy rich and famous.

She was the gorgeous, only daughter of Trunks Briefs, the brilliant scientist who had invented the state-of-the-art capsule technology, and Panchy Briefs, famous supermodel and entrepreneur.

But now, Trunks Briefs was behind bars for his alleged involvement in a government fund embezzling scandal, and her beautiful mother was grievously ill and bed-ridden after she was struck down by a heart attack following her husband’s arrest.

Their family name was a newspaper headline staple for months.

The government had frozen all their assets and seized their properties, leaving Bulma and her rapidly deteriorating mother out on the streets, penniless and without anyone to turn to.

None of their “friends” had dared to lend a hand.

In spite of her own beauty and genius, Bulma was unable to secure a good job – no company would want to associate with the disgraced Briefs.

Only a small diner, tucked into the very corner of a near-forgotten city alley, had agreed to hire her as a waitress.

She walked home slowly after her grueling shift, with half a mind on her dreary surroundings and another half on the chump change she called tips folded in her pocket, thinking of the bed-sore cream that she needed to buy for her mother at home.

Panchy was getting worse, and unless a miracle happened, she was going to die, and without the means to get all the needed medical attention, it was going to be a drawn-out and painful death.

She walked in the dark, not daring to turn a flashlight on, for fear of attracting attention to herself in the dangerous neighborhood. The streets were gloomy, the roads badly paved, full of potholes that collected dirty flood water. The few buildings that still stood were old and decrepit, interspersed with abandoned shacks, their boarded up windows hiding filthy secrets of haunted pasts.

All she had to guide her as she hurried back to her run-down apartment, was the sparse rays of a few streetlamps, flickering in and out as the old bulbs sputtered out their dying light.

It was beneath the glow of one such lamp that she found a bundle of crumpled-looking cloth draped over a small lump on the side of the road.

Bulma wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw the bundle _move._

She came closer, curiosity getting the better of her, in spite of all her senses screaming at her to just ignore it.

“Um… hello?” she called out softly.

The bundle twitched.

Something was alive in there!

Hesitantly, she moved even closer. Then, using the tips of her thumb and forefinger, she lifted up a corner of the cloth.

She gasped at what she found.

A tiny person, with very small, wrinkled hands that ended in nails akin to claws. Fading pink hair covered the head, a thick dark cloak concealing frail shoulders from the coldness of the night.

“Oh my God, are you alright?” she asked, kneeling down to check if the person was injured. The small person then lifted its head.

Bulma looked into the drawn face of a very old woman, whose tiny red eyes assessed her beneath a fringe of messy pink bangs.

The old woman shook, before one of her veined hands shot out to grab her wrist.

Bulma was shocked at the strength behind her grasp.

“Are you alright?” she asked again, a small quiver in her voice as the old woman’s beady eyes narrowed, zooming in on the smooth skin of her hand.

“You are quite lovely,” said the old crone, her words more of a croak, and Bulma discreetly tried to pull her hand away.

The old woman let her eyes rove over her, taking in everything from her bright blue hair tucked into a tight bun, to her pale blue eyes and lips painted a light pink.

The crone spoke again, a slow, whispered drawl that sent goosebumps running up her spine. “Blue hair that shimmers even in this dreadful darkness… **_skin as_** smooth and **_white as snow_** … what is such a beautiful thing like you doing in this gods-forsaken place?”

Bulma stared, her heart pounding furiously as the beginnings of fear began to flood into her chest.

“I… I work nearby. Do you live somewhere close? I could… I could help you get home,” she offered.

The old woman smiled, a large grin with entirely too much teeth.

“I live _far_ from here, girl. But I am very hungry. Would you happen to have some change you could spare?”

Bulma had exactly nine dollars in her pocket.

She needed five dollars for the bed-sore cream, and had been hoping to buy some milk or bread with the four extra dollars.

She pulled four bills out of her pocket.

“Here,” she said, and the old woman finally released her arm so she could take the money. “It is nearly half of everything I have. Please use it to get yourself some food.”

The old woman’s smile widened.

Bulma stood to go, but the woman reached out a hand to touch her knee, making her look back, brows lowered in confusion.

“Do you need help getting up?” Bulma asked, bending down again to assist the small woman.

“No dear. However…” the old woman reached into her robes, then pulled out something that was small enough to fit into her palm.

She unfurled her crooked fingers, revealing a small, golden glass orb.

It shone mesmerizingly, seemingly with its own light. Bulma was unable to tear her gaze away as the woman pushed the orb closer to her, and she stared breathlessly as she noted the small symbol imbedded in the very center of the glass ball.

The symbol was a deep red, a crest of sorts. Three arrows pointed out from a common point at the center, where two short horizontal lines topped an inverted arch that ended in sharp tips pointing back towards the three larger arrows.

Bulma had seen a lot of beautiful things… priceless gems and exquisite jewelry… but something about this orb was near hypnotic in its beauty, and she reached out a hand to let the tips of her fingers brush across the orb.

An electric jolt resonated through her body as her hand met the ball, and she felt the tremors of something primal rise within her, seemingly reaching for her from within the depths of the tiny trinket. The feeling was not her own, but the red hot sensation of rage, hunger and overwhelming _lust_ seared her, setting her soul on fire and melting her from the inside out.

She wrenched her hand away, panting, both terrified and exhilarated, and turned wide eyes at the crone. Her heart slammed painfully against her ribcage, her hand lifting to hold her chest, half-fearing that her traumatized heart would leap out.

She recoiled, falling onto her butt on the hard concrete road, her eyes flying up to meet the deep red irises of the strange woman before her.

“Child…” the crone said, “this, in my hand, is a very special artifact. I wish to give it to you, as a gift… for being such a kind soul and helping me today, even if you yourself, have so little.”

“No, thank you, it’s ok,” Bulma responded, the words leaving her lips in a choked whisper.

“This Uranai insists,” the old lady gave her name as she pushed the orb towards Bulma again.

“I… I couldn’t possibly take it from you, Uranai.”

“Please! I believe it can help you,” Uranai said. “You are going through very difficult times, as I see, and this ball can hold the solutions you seek.”

Bulma peeked back at the ball, confusion clouding her. “How… what do you mean?”

“It is said,” Uranai rasped, “that this ball holds the spirit of a great warrior prince who can grant you any wish you desire. Those who wish to call upon him, need only face the full moon, call out his name five times… and he will come to you.”

Bulma stared at the ball in curiosity, watching the fine lines of energy crackle within its confines.

She took a deep breath, not even knowing what to make of all this. “Have you… have you tried it?”

Uranai chuckled. “Gods, no. For the Prince will ask you for a price… and I am not sure if any selfish wish of mine would have ever been worth it.”

“Why are you giving it to me, then?” Bulma asked.

“Because, young one, you give me the feeling that you are in a huge bind… as if trapped in a caged tower, right now… and you could really use that wish.”

Bulma’s hands trembled as she reached forward, the enchanting light of the orb luring her, teasing her with the allure of the danger that she could sense from within it.

Before she realized it, she was holding the ball in the palms of her hands, cradling it as the intense heat of it enveloped her, and she took a startled look at Uranai as the crone began to stand, pulling her cloak with her.

“He is called, Prince Vegeta. Speak his name five times, towards a full moon, and you can have anything that you wish for.”

Bulma turned her gaze to stare at the ball, feeling it calling her, wrapping inexplicable tendrils of power around her.

Uranai’s voice was raspy, mischievous, as she said, “Good luck, Bulma.”

Bulma looked up with a gasp.

Uranai was gone.

And she knew fully well, that she had never told the old woman her name.

8-8-8-8-8

The full moon shone brightly through the small bedroom window of Bulma’s apartment, as she tried to push her mother to her side so the paralyzed woman would be off her festering bed-sores.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at her mother, whose skin was once smooth as porcelain, and now filled with large maws of rotting wounds that ate through several layers of skin, fat and muscle on her thighs and back.

As she fought her tears back, Bulma could feel the now familiar pull of a mysterious aura, forcing her eyes to the top drawer where she had hidden _it_ a few days ago.

The orb.

It called to her, day and night, beckoning her to speak the name of the powerful prince that supposedly lay within.

She had never been particularly superstitious, and she knew better than to believe the words of a strange and creepy old woman. She was a brilliant engineer herself, and facts, logic and science were more her thing than magic and mayhem…

But she could not deny the strange pull, the inarguable power that she could feel whenever she held that strange orb in her hands.

She was simultaneously fascinated and terrified by the orb, and if she was back in her old lab, she would have set it up and studied all the various wavelengths she could undoubtedly measure with her gadgets, isolating each individual signal until she got to the bottom of the mysterious trinket.

But she was unable to do that now, and she found herself beginning to seriously entertain the thought of facing the damned moon and chanting…

_Prince Vegeta…_

As soon as she thought of his name, she saw a pulse of light leak out of her closet, dying down as her shock shot up.

Her mother gasped, her pained, tearful voice begging Bulma for a relief that she could not give…

And Bulma decided... She was going to give this thing a try.

She was desolate, in dire need of assistance that no one was willing to extend. She was going to try anything that could possibly pull her and her mother out of this bind.

Towards midnight, after her mother finally fell asleep, Bulma snuck up to the quiet rooftop of the apartment building, the orb pulsing excitedly in her hand.

She looked up at the round, bright moon, innocently shining light upon the city, and Bulma felt downright ridiculous as she faced it, holding the orb up so that, from her perspective, it lined up to cover the moon.

She cleared her throat, thinking, “ _Here goes nothing._ ”

She took a slow, deep breath, releasing it in an exhale as she spoke softly.

“Prince Vegeta.”

The orb’s glow brightened, and Bulma sucked in a rapid breath as she felt the warmth of the round trinket intensify inexplicably.

Something had _definitely_ happened.

She spoke again, her voice marginally louder.

“Prince Vegeta.”

The few locks of her hair that had fallen from her bun flew wildly about her face as the wind suddenly picked up, and the light from the orb grew brighter still, coating her hands in a warm, golden glow.

“Prince Vegeta.”

The third time she said the name, the red insignia within began to bleed a strong red gleam, painting her hands with various shades of scarlet and amber as she felt spatters of rain begin to drip down, falling onto the tip of her nose, the apples of her cheeks.

The terror began to crawl through her very blood, her mind begging her to stop this idiocy.

But she was determined to find out…

“Prince Vegeta!”

She called loudly this time, as the rain grew stronger, pelting her shoulders as the sky began to darken further, and she glimpsed the moon from behind her now terribly trembling fingers…

The moon had bled _red._

Just as the red of the strange symbol in the orb had taken over its entirety, eclipsing the golden glow with an angry scarlet light.

She took a deep breath, gathered her failing courage, and shouted to the sky that was now being striped by lightning…

“ _Prince Vegeta!_ ”

As soon as the final syllable left her lips, she saw a crack form from the center of the orb in her hand, the heat in it rising to unbearable levels as thunder roared through the sky, the sound akin to an animal’s furious growls to her ears.

The orb cracked, and she cried out as the heat burned her hands, forcing her to let go of the trinket as the cracking caused the orb to shatter into a thousand shards of energy in the air.

She was thrown back by an unseen force, and she shielded her eyes as a crack of lightning struck right in front of her.

Bulma fell back, landing painfully on her denim-clad butt as she desperately covered her head to protect her from… whatever was happening.

Her heart raced, slamming painfully against her rib cage, and she looked up, only to scream as she saw a beam of reddish light floating before her, morphing slowly into an outline of a humanoid form.

Unable to look away, she watched, jaw slack in horrified amazement as the light began to solidify, before the brightness began to fade…

Leaving in its place the undeniable form of a man.

Her eyes started from his feet that were hovering above the floor, less than two feet away from her shaking form.

He was wearing white, gold-tipped boots. Her gaze traveled up, staring disbelievingly at his well-muscled legs and calves encased in extremely form-fitting dark blue pants.

He had a very trim waist, leading up into a wide torso that was covered by a strange white and gold breastplate that concealed most of his chest and stomach. The red insignia that was in the orb was stamped clearly onto the upper left part of his breastplate.

She realized that the pants were part of a full bodysuit that also covered his arms that were crossed against his chest, as the same skin-tight material stretched against the thickly defined muscles of his biceps and forearms.

She looked up at his face, and her breath caught in her throat.

A strong chin and sharply angled jaw framed perfectly shaped lips that were lifted up into a menacing smirk. His nose, thin and straight, turned up at her as he regarded her with narrowed eyes, whose irises were in the most disconcertingly vivid shade of green she had ever seen.

His striking features were topped by a severe widow’s peak that flared into a riotous shock of golden hair, and her eyes looked in awe at the strangely thick strands that looked to her like coarse, **_spunned straws of gold_**.

He was as breathtakingly beautiful as he was terrifying.

He truly looked the part of a warrior prince, with a threatening presence that inspired awe and respect, demanding subjugation of any who dared look upon him.

Bulma found herself at a profound loss for words, her mouth flopping open like a fish, her arms shaking as they tried and ultimately failed to push herself up.

She remained on the floor, cowering helplessly as this god among men floated above her, and she watched as his mouth widened into a feral sneer.

She whimpered, thinking that she had just made a terrible, terrible mistake.

He dropped down before her, then crouched down, and she recoiled as he moved closer until his face was a few measly inches away from her own.

She could feel the heat emanating from him, scalding her cheeks as he leaned in even closer.

She closed her eyes, afraid of what he would do, and she felt his thick fingers brush across her lips, her cheeks and her chin… before he reached down and clutched both of her forearms with his large hands.

She felt herself being pulled up, and she opened her blue eyes wide as she realized that the warrior had pulled her to her feet.

Bulma found herself staring directly into his green eyes, and she decided to stand her ground, even as her insides quivered with apprehension.

“Y-You are P-P-Prince Vegeta?” she asked, her voice coming out as a hesitant whisper.

He smirked, and she saw his pearly white teeth, sharper than any human’s she had ever seen.

“At your service,” he affirmed.

The smooth timbre of his low voice took her by surprise, and she stiffened as the alluring lilt of his slight accent made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“I…” she began. “I have a...”

She trailed off, not even knowing how to proceed.

She had been half-hoping that the orb was a strangely believable fake, and she had not anticipated what she would do if a warrior spirit actually did come out of the ball.

“You have a wish.”

His voice was so electrifying, that all she could do was nod.

He smirked, letting go of her arms.

“I can give you anything you desire… but I expect recompense.”

She swallowed, then licked her lips, before she finally gathered her wits and answered.

“What price will you ask of me?”

“The price will depend on the magnitude of your wish,” he responded.

Bulma nodded. “Seems fair. My wish… it is very simple,” she began, and as she forced the next words out of her mouth, she can’t help but feel like she was striking an unbreakable deal with the devil.

But she had no other choice.

“Prince Vegeta… I wish for you to heal my mother. To restore her to perfect health. I just want her suffering to stop,” she said bravely, even as she felt a single tear fall down her cheek.

The prince narrowed his eyes at her, before he raised his hands, and she saw a golden ball of light begin to form.

“I shall heal your mother, woman,” he started, “But my final price shall be named at a later time. Do you accept?”

She stepped back. “How can I agree to such terms? I don’t know what you would ask of me?”

His sneer grew wider.

“You have a choice… accept my terms and heal your mother, or refuse, and I shall go off on my way. _You_ decide.”

She really wanted to turn and say _to absolute hell with this_ , but before she could even fully consider refusing, the sad image of her dying mother, curled in on herself and crying softly from her unbearable pain, entered her mind, and she knew that choice, for her, was an illusion.

“I… yes. Yes please. Anything,” she sobbed.

The Prince’s eyes seemed to glow even brighter.

“I do require a preliminary payment, of course. I shall claim it right after I heal your mother. Do you accept my terms?”

She swallowed, then nodded.

“State your name and _say it,_ woman,” he growled.

Bulma took a very deep breath.

“Yes. I, Bulma Briefs…” she paused as her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out her logic as she confirmed his dubious terms. “…accept your terms.”

He smiled fully, a large menacing smile that showed off his inhumanly ferocious teeth, cradling the golden light between his hands before he suddenly smacked his hands together, the force of his actions rattling the very foundations of the building they were standing on.

She shrieked, before she saw the beams of light seep out of his fingers, coalescing to form the shape of his arrowed insignia, before the beam flew from them, and Bulma realized that the light had streaked out in the direction of her room, towards the frail form of her mother.

“Mom!” she gasped, about to run towards her in concern, before she was stopped by the strong hands of the prince that had grabbed her about the waist, pulling her until she was flush against his body.

His heat again felt like wildfire, and she hissed as his face came nearer to hers, his thick arms encircling her waist and back, fingers reaching up to grasp the tie that held her blue hair back.

He let his lips brush over her ear as he rasped, “Oh Bulma… **_let down your hair_** …”

She felt her hair cascade down her shoulders, tumbling down her back, where his fingers took the liberty of tangling among the strands.

“I shall be claiming that initial price, now,” he hissed in her ear as he yanked her yet closer against him.

She gasped, shocked beyond belief, when his lips suddenly crashed onto hers.

His mouth was fierce, demanding, as he forcefully plunged his tongue into her startled mouth, exploring the deep caverns and wrenching a throaty groan from deep within her chest.

His heat, previously unbearable, became a staggering sensation that flitted across her entire form, claiming her thoughts and making her acquiesce to the feel of his body grinding against her own.

His hands raked across her back as he devoured her, and she, unable and somehow unwilling to fight him, wrapped her own arms around his neck, delighting in the feel of the thick muscles that seemed to cord around every single inch of him.

He nipped at her lips, sucked her tongue, tasted her teeth, driving all coherent thought from her as she all but arched against him, her body inexplicably begging for more.

And then, all of sudden, just as she felt that she would be burned to a crisp by the heat of his embrace, he pulled away, and her dazed eyes found him standing a foot from her, shoulders heaving lightly as he breathed hard.

Before she could utter a word, he raised a fist and unfurled it before her, revealing a small charm in the shape of his insignia.

It was in the same red shade, about an inch in height.

“I shall come to claim my price, soon,” he declared, voice sure and steady. “But should you need me before then, hold this and call for me, and I shall come.”

She nodded, taking the trinket. She stared at the deceptively simple ornament, then looked back up…

Only to find that Prince Vegeta had disappeared.

Her thoughts were in chaos, and when she finally cleared the fog in her mind, she jumped with a gasp as she remembered…

“Mom!” she cried, running down the stairs and through the dark hallway, clutching the insignia in her hand as she raced into her flat.

“Mom!” she called again as she came into the room, and found her mother…

Looking as vibrant and beautiful as she did before her heart attack.

The blonde woman was sitting up in bed, looking astonished as she stared at her supple arms, gingerly touching her thighs where the bed sores had been, tears streaming down her face as she looked at Bulma in abject awe.

“Bulma… baby… It’s a miracle!” she said reverently.

Bulma couldn’t help the tears that flowed down her face as she knelt before the bed and hugged her mother as tightly as she could, as she felt her mother’s arms wrap around her as well, and they cried with each other until they were both exhausted and out of tears to shed.

As Panchy marveled over the miraculous recovery, Bulma sat still, clutching Prince Vegeta’s charm in her fist.

And she knew… he was coming for his price, very soon.

This was all just the beginning.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	2. The Victims of Circumstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma's first wish was granted, but Prince Vegeta has yet to name his price. Her reservations about his true motives aside, she opts to keep the Prince near, as she realizes that malicious forces have begun stalking her, and he may be her only hope of making it out alive.  
> Chapter Warnings: Profane language; Non-con/Attempted rape; Nudity; Violence against a minor; Minor character death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is the first of two parts of my entries for Week 2 of Vegebul Mayhem.  
> I hope you like it!

Bulma held her head in her hands as she read that morning’s newspaper. She groaned in frustration, wanting to shred the blasted sheets of paper that yielded no answers, but created even more questions.

How? How did all this evidence against her father just keep piling up?

She absolutely refused to believe that her father was guilty of all these charges.

Embezzlement of government funds? Why would he get himself mixed-up in that? He was a self-made billionaire, who had worked hard from the ground up. It just didn’t make sense for him to risk a lifetime of hard work to siphon some government funds, especially when the amount they were accusing him of stealing was something that their family’s company, Capsule Corp., could have easily earned in a single week.

Additionally… Bulma _knew_ her father. Dr. Trunks Briefs was kind, generous and philanthropic. There was no darkness, no malice in his heart, and she was absolutely convinced that he was as innocent as he claimed to be.

It really made no sense then, that the inquest proceedings just kept finding more and more evidence against him.

All of the evidence pointed back at her father.

It was all too convenient. It was maddening.

A sudden gust of wind that came through her open window pulled her from her thoughts, and Bulma thought nothing of it as she stood, pulled the rickety window closed, then returned to her chair to peruse the morning report once more.

She was going through the article for the third time when she felt a breeze, ruffling her hair and making the papers flutter within her grasp.

She looked up, annoyed, before she stood and walked to the window, grunting with difficulty as she pulled it closed again.

She turned back to her chair…

_Wait._

_Wait a god-damned second._

Bulma turned around slowly, regarding the window as suspicion crawled through her.

She had _closed_ that window.

It was an old window that made a loud grating sound with each movement, one that she had to practically wrestle with if she wanted to open or close it.

How… the fuck… was it open again?

She turned back to her chair, sneaking glances at the window as she moved to sit.

“Mom?” she called out, hoping that her mother, Panchy, had come home without her notice.

Since her magical recovery four days ago, Panchy had taken to going on early morning walks, claiming she missed the sun, and having legs that actually agreed to move.

The house remained quiet, and Bulma knew that her mother couldn’t have come back yet. The flat was tiny, she could not have possibly missed her.

A chill ran up her spine, and she wrapped her arms around herself, glancing behind her, unnerved.

She lifted a hand to her chest, feeling the metallic heat of Prince Vegeta’s amulet.

She had placed the charm on a simple stainless steel chain that she had hung around her neck. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, knowing that her deal with the Prince would surely lead to her ruin, but for some reason, she wanted that amulet close to her at all times.

She had the sinking feeling that she would be needing him again, very soon.

That sinking feeling deepened as a steeper sense of foreboding filled her with every second that passed.

She was alone, in a tiny flat in the middle of a questionable neighborhood. She had always been very diligent with locking the door, but locking windows had never occurred to her.

She stood again, restless, heading to the window to inspect it and perhaps find a way to secure it.

Bulma stilled as she felt soft tendrils of air brush against her hair, ruffling the blue strands.

However, dread filled her when the coolness of the air left, only to be replaced by the unmistakable feeling of hot breath against the back of her neck.

She screeched, whipping around, her hands up in a useless position of self-defense, blue eyes wide as she intended to attack the intruder that she was now _sure_ was in her flat.

She came face to face with an empty room.

She was breathing hard, terrified, hand on her chest as if trying to keep her heart from pounding its way out of her ribcage. She backed away, eyes frantically searching her surroundings for someone, _something_ that shouldn’t be there.

The feel of hot, large hands wrapping around her upper arms from behind made her scream again, and as she tried to turn to face her attacker, she realized that whoever it was, was strong, much stronger than her…

With all of her meager might, she pulled herself away from her attacker, and she fell roughly to the hard wooden floor with a cry.

She tried to crawl away, but the intruder fell upon her as she did, trapping her beneath a hard, heavy body as she kept struggling.

“No! Who are you? Let me go!” she screamed, clawing at the floor boards in her distress, trying to pull herself away.

Was this the end?

Was she going to die alone in a dirty neighborhood, under a soiled name, at the disgusting hands of a criminal?

She tried to fight as the attacker turned her to face him, and abject terror filled her as she looked into hellishly dark, vicious eyes, with severe brows that slanted sharply on a high forehead.

Her attacker smirked menacingly, effortlessly trapping her hands above her head, and she kept screaming for help that she knew would not come as he lowered his head to the side of her neck.

He bit her lightly, the sharp pain sending a searing shock through her system as she stilled momentarily, before trying futilely to twist free once again.

Tears filled her eyes, falling down the sides of her face as she kept fighting but began to realize that there was no hope.

“Please, let me go. Take everything you want, but please don’t hurt me!”

She felt him snicker against her skin.

“I do not intend to hurt you, Bulma,” she heard him rasp in her ear, and she froze as she realized that her attacker knew her.

This was not a random attack.

“Who are you? What do you want?!” she screamed, renewing her efforts to get away with vigor as she felt one of his hands begin to inch up her waist, pausing as his thumb met the bare skin of her stomach.

“I am offended, woman. Have you already forgotten me? And here I thought… by your response to my lips… that I had made _quite_ an impression.”

“What?” she asked, ceasing her struggles as the man raised his head from her shoulder to look at her dead-on.

She looked at the man, really looked at him, for the first time.

She had no idea who he was, but something about his face seemed strangely familiar…

Her eyes flew up to his hair, which was in a strange style that reminded her of dark flames reaching up to the sky.

She looked back at his face as confusion filled her, aggravating her as it mixed with the panic in her chest.

“You… are you…?”

He snickered. “You wear my insignia around your neck, but cannot remember my face?”

She gasped as her mind brought her back to a few nights ago, when the terrifying phantom from within the mysterious glass ball appeared before her, and she remembered with stunning clarity each line and angle of the Prince’s handsome face…

The same face that stared back at her through now-dark eyes, beneath a shock of now-obsidian hair.

“P-Prince Vegeta?” she asked, tears still standing in her eyes as she looked him over, not understanding the changes that she saw in his appearance.

He grinned evilly, loosening his hold on her hands as he slightly eased off her body.

“The one and only,” he remarked.

Rage filled her, and she brought her hands up, hitting his chest with balled fists as her anger and subsequent relief pushed the tears from her eyes once again.

“You are an asshole, Prince Vegeta!” she yelled at him, striking his chest with her hands. “You scared me half to death!”

He smirked, holding her hands back. “The scent of your terror is absolutely delicious, woman.”

“You are such an evil basta-”

“However,” he ignored her. “You should remember that if you are under attack, and a stronger man has you pinned down, a sharply-aimed knee right where _it hurts_ may help you stave him off.”

He rose then, and Bulma followed, dusting herself off as she ignored the hand that he had extended to her to help her up.

“Thank you very much for the self-defense lessons, _your majesty_ ,” she spat, sitting back down on her chair and lowering her head to her hands.

“Why exactly are you here and why do you look like,” she lifted her head, raising a hand and gesturing to his hair, “that?”

He smirked crookedly as he crossed his arms. “Do you honestly expect me to be inconspicuous within this world if I was in my ascended form?”

That gave her pause, and she looked at him with a quirked brow. “You’ve been trying to blend in?”

“It would not do for me to raise suspicion when I still have dues I wish to collect in this realm.”

His words made her remember that the man she was speaking to was an actual _immortal wish-granting being_ who still had a price to collect from her, and she cringed as she thought of how she had spoken to him in the past few minutes.

“I’m sorry for my rash behavior, you scared me, and…”

“Do not apologize,” he said, waving a dismissive hand before him. “I rather enjoyed this feisty version of you, Bulma.”

Something about his words made a wild shiver run down her spine.

“What are you reading, anyway?” he asked suddenly, and she looked down at the newspaper that was still on the table.

“Oh,” she said, lifting it and handing it to him. “It’s a newspaper. I was reading up on my father’s case.”

His eyes turned green for a moment as he regarded the front page, before he gave it back to her.

“Ah yes. Your disgraced father,” he remarked.

Bulma winced at his callous words. “Yes, you know of him?”

“Of course. I learned much about you in the past few days.”

She blinked. “You’ve been researching me?”

He snapped his fingers, and a chair materialized from thin air. He set the chair down and sat, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I need to know more about the beings who owe me, of course. Also, your story is quite interesting… it is a classic political cover-up.”

She straightened at his words, eyes wide. “What did you say?”

He scoffed. “Woman, it is clearly a set-up. A well-devised one, but it is obvious that the true perpetrator had left a calculated false trail that lead all of the evidence to point back at your father. The details are too deliberate.”

Excitement rushed through her as she leaned forward, eyes wide as she regarded him. “Yes! I thought so too! Everything is too clean, too pointed. It seemed too much like someone had left **_a_** **_trail of breadcrumbs_** that pointed straight to my father. Any criminal would have been able to cover these tracks, but all these documents implicate my father too well!”

“And they incapacitated your financial resources as well, so you cannot find a way to research and look for the people truly responsible.”

Bulma nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Exactly! I knew it!” she exclaimed, rising from her chair to pace to the window.

She looked out at the dreary streets and buildings that surrounded her, and determination filled her as she thought again of how much she wanted to go back to the way things had been.

To her happy parents, carefree and easygoing… to the opulence and comfort of her wealth…

“I need to find a way to find them, Prince Vegeta… but how?”

“You could always just wish for me to kill them,” he said with a casual air.

Bulma turned back to him. “No! I would never…”

“You realize that if it were up to them, they would see you dead?”

She chewed her lip. “Yes, but I can’t just ask for them to die… But I also have no other possible way, nothing at all to help me find my answers…”

“If you do not intend to wish your problems away, you still possess one very significant resource that they cannot take from you.”

She looked at him quizzically, noting his relaxed posture. “What do you mean?”

“Your mind, woman,” he hissed, staring directly into her eyes as he spoke. “You are supposed to have an unparalleled mind. Use it.”

They both turned as the main door swung open, and Bulma blanched as her mother’s smiling face peeked in.

Her panicked mind tried to think of what to say about their visitor, but as she turned to glance at where Vegeta was sitting, she saw that the man had already vanished, leaving no indication of his presence.

He may have disappeared, but his words stayed with her, and Bulma, with renewed determination, resolved to end all this…

She will find a way to clear her father’s name.

And she hoped she would have enough time before Prince Vegeta returned to claim his payment.

8-8-8-8-8

It had been a week since Prince Vegeta’s visit to her tiny flat, and Bulma was bouncing with glee as she made progress on her research.

He had been correct… she still had her brilliant mind, and she used it to hack into some very secure networks, digging up whatever information she could on her father’s case.

She was close to a breakthrough… she just knew it.

However, she did keep facing a minor distraction that made her mind wander whenever she wasn’t megabytes deep into some hacked mainframe…

Prince Vegeta…

She had also done research on him, to see if there was any literature at all that can lead her to find anything about him, but there was nothing…

No myths, no legends, and his name cannot be found in anything, not in ancient registries or fictional works.

She was absolutely clueless about him.

Which was why, when she felt the cold breeze followed by sudden unbidden warmth within her little home, she turned calmly, coming face to face with the dark-haired being who plagued her waking thoughts.

“Hello Prince Vegeta,” she greeted, making him raise a brow in apparent suspicion.

“Hello, Bulma,” he said, sitting on a nearby chair as she approached, putting a cup of water before him.

“I’d offer you a snack, but all I have is water, so…”

He smirked.

Bulma took a deep breath.

“Prince Vegeta…” she began. “I know I probably shouldn’t ask you this, but who are you, exactly?”

He froze, looking at her with barely leashed shock.

“You wish to know about me? Why?”

She shrugged. “No reason.”

His eyes narrowed. “If you are planning to renege on our deal…”

“No!” she exclaimed, waving her hands before her to placate him. “No, of course not! I fully intend to pay you back for healing my mother, but I am… curious.”

He sat back, regarding her with narrowed eyes.

“I am Vegeta, prince of the Saiyan race. We are… were… a race of warriors. I was the heir apparent, and I had led my people to many victories before I was tricked and unceremoniously thrown into that blasted ball. I do not know how many years have passed, but I can tell you… I am not from around here.”

She remembered the words of Uranai, telling her about the spirit of a great warrior prince who would fulfill her wishes, and she realized that the old crone had truly not been lying.

She smiled at him, reaching for his hands that were resting on his lap.

“Now that you have been pulled out of the ball, do you have to go back?”

His brows furrowed, and his mouth opened to answer, but he suddenly snapped his lips closed, pulling his hands away from her as he stood and glared menacingly at her.

“You ask too many questions, woman. You presume us to be allies, but you fail to remember that I am here, biding my time, until I can claim my price. That is all there is to it,” he snarled.

Bulma was taken aback, and she was about to say more when he raised two fingers to his forehead and suddenly disappeared.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma realized that she was making significant progress on her research about her father when , one day, out of the blue, a young boy stopped her as she was walking to her job at the diner.

“Are you Bulma?” the boy asked, his voice small, nervous. He was very short, around four or five years old, wearing a green coat and dirty white pants.

She could see that his hands were shaking as he addressed her.

Dread flooded her veins, and she looked away from the boy to pan her vision around the empty street, the bright mid-day sun doing nothing to assuage the feeling of apprehension that built up when the boy said her name.

“Yes, I am Bulma. And you are?”

The boy looked up at her through large eyes rimmed red, and whispered, “Dende.”

“Well, Dende,” she said softly, kneeling down so she was at eye-level with the boy. “Nice to meet you. How do you know my name?”

He was shaking now, and he kept his eyes pointedly on the ground as he said, “They told me… they told me to ask you to stop.”

Her blood turned to ice, and she clutched one of the boy’s shaking hands as she asked, “Who said? Stop what?”

“I don’t know, they just told me to tell you. They said you have to stop.”

She knew exactly what they were asking her to stop doing.

“Dende,” she said in a voice much calmer than she felt. “Please don’t be scared. But if you see them, tell them… I will _never_ stop.”

She stood, intending to walk past the boy when he jumped up, clutching her leg that had been left bare by her short waitress uniform.

“Please! They will hurt you!” he said.

She was shaking on the inside now, and her fingers went up to her chest, clutching Prince Vegeta’s amulet as she answered.

“Let them try.”

8-8-8-8-8

A few days later, Bulma found the same boy waiting for her on her path to the diner.

She eyed him as warily as he did her, and upon approaching him, she spoke. “Did they ask you to ask me to stop again?”

He shook his head, but Bulma noticed that the boy was looking even more terrified than he was the last time.

“Someone told me they could help you,” he stuttered, and Bulma felt suspicion fill her as she watched the boy twist his fingers around the hem of his coat. “They will help you, they said, because they need your help too.”

“Why would they need my help?”

“They said you have the same enemy,” he said. “But they can’t fight him because they aren’t smart like you. They said they need you to meet them.”

Dende pulled a wadded up piece of paper from his coat pocket. He handed it to Bulma, who looked suspiciously at the messy scrawl of a nearby address, asking her to be there at nine in the evening.

Her shift ended at 8:30; she could make it.

Bulma realized that this was risky… but what if this could lead to answers about her father?

She had hit a roadblock in her research, and she needed a particular bit of information before she could go to the police with substantiated findings.

She had no choice. She had to take a risk.

She looked down at the boy, and with determination, said, “Tell them, I will be there.”

8-8-8-8-8

The address led to an abandoned, run-down neighborhood a few blocks away from where Bulma now lived. It was dark, the streetlights all but dead, and as she slowly made her way to the correct building, she could not shake the intense feeling of foreboding that washed over her in furious torrents, screaming at her that she was walking to her demise.

She reached the address, then tried the door, relieved to find it unlocked.

She opened the door, slipping into the house before she shut it softly behind her, then called out into the darkness.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” she asked.

A sudden strip of bright light blinded her for a second, and she turned to the light source, only to find a young woman holding a small lamp staring at her from behind a low table at a corner of the room.

“Bulma?” her small, shy voice asked, and Bulma squinted. From what she could tell, the woman had long dark hair and was wearing a long, dark green coat that bore similar red symbols on both arms.

“Yes,” she answered, shoulders sagging slightly in relief as she noted the woman’s slim build and pale face. “You wanted to talk to me about-”

“Please, come closer, we need to talk about your father and the ones trying to frame him,” the woman said.

Bulma took a couple of steps towards her, eager to learn more.

“What do you know about my father? Do you know who did this?”

As she came closer, she noticed that the woman had begun to smile, a smile that turned sinister as the woman turned her eyes to regard her, the dark red of her irises making Bulma’s hair stand on end.

“Yes, I know, Bulma,” she said, her voice becoming deeper, and Bulma sensed the malice in her tone as she turned another lamp on beside her.

Bulma’s head whipped around as she heard jeering chuckles behind her, realizing too late that two men had been standing just to her side near the door as she walked in, blending into the shadows while she was focused on the woman before her.

One of them had sallow skin that looked nearly blue in the dim light, with large eyes that had pupils that were entirely too small. The other had a square face, with a long upturned nose that looked more like a snout.

They were both tall and large, and Bulma felt true fear slither into her as she fully understood that she had truly walked into a trap.

“We know who did this, Bulma. But we are not about to tell you,” the sallow-skinned man said, leering at her with clear ill-intent.

“The boy… the boy who led me here? Where is he?” she asked, unable to believe that they were able to get such a young child to lead her to her death, but knowing that he could have done so under duress.

“Oh look, Dende was right, she really is such a sweet lady, after all,” the woman piped up behind her, chuckling darkly, and Bulma glanced at her as she kept speaking. “Don’t worry… **_The boy who_** you may think **_lied_** to you just to get you here didn’t think he was lying.”

“Then again,” the third man chimed in, “I don’t think he would be thinking again, anytime soon.”

Her thoughts stalled completely as she finally noticed a small sack near the doorway…

“ _No… Don’t tell me…”_

“You didn’t… you… you killed him?!” Bulma whispered hoarsely as she realized that the sack was stained red…

Blood red.

“Well, it would not do to have any living witnesses,” the woman said gleefully. “See Bulma, our employer was going to leave you alone, but you had to start _something_. And he doesn’t like leaving a living trail.”

Bulma jumped as she felt fingers reach for her, catching the long strands of her hair.

She tried to pull back, but a strong hand grabbed her roughly by the cloth of her loose blouse, and she found herself pressed against the thick body of the man with the large eyes.

“Mai,” the man said, “you never mentioned that Bulma Briefs was truly _this_ beautiful.”

“Indeed,” the other man chimed in. “Why, she looks even better in person, than in those pictures.”

Bulma used her arms to push against him, kicking at him until she felt another large body envelope her from behind, trapping her between two immovable forces that wouldn’t yield.

She screamed, and the three simply laughed at her, as they all knew that no one could hear her… no one would come to help her.

She felt rough hands glide up her thighs from behind as one of the men leaned down to lick her cheek, and Bulma screamed in utter horror and disgust at what she suspected was about to happen.

“If you want to have fun with her before we kill her,” the woman said, “I’m not gonna stop you, Shu and Pilaf. A spoiled rich girl, reduced to this?”

The woman returned to her seat, kicking her legs up on the table. “It would make even more sense… if she was killed during an assault. I’m just gonna sit back here and watch.”

“No!” Bulma screamed as the men began pawing at her, and she felt a hard hand forcefully pull her blouse apart, ripping the buttons off, before the hand grabbed her breast, squeezing her painfully as the two men wrestled her to the ground.

One of them stood, unlatching his belt, while the other hovered over her, pulling her skirt up and recklessly ripping her panties off as one large hand pinned both of hers above her head.

She screamed herself hoarse, kicking and thrashing, trying in vain to keep her legs closed as the men wrested control from her and held her down.

They ripped her clothes, and she cried as she saw that one of them had already  pulled his pants down, approaching her with eyes full of unholy glee.

Her struggles were futile, as they leered, their terrifying eyes tracing over her exposed body.

However, before she could completely lose hope, she heard Prince Vegeta’s voice in her head, a soft, urgent whisper…

_…A sharply-aimed knee right where it hurts…_

She felt as one of her attackers let go of one leg…

With what little leverage she had, she pulled back her leg, and suddenly, with all the force of her panic, shoved and ground her knee onto the exposed testicles of one of her would-be rapists.

The man howled, clutching himself, unwittingly letting her hands go.

She used this precious moment to reach up, and with desperation, grasped her amulet.

“Prince Vegeta!” she screamed, hoping against hope that he would hear her…

Less than a moment after the last syllable left her lips, the room was flooded by an intense red light…

Prince Vegeta stood before them, regal in his golden-haired, god-like form, and his strangely bright green eyes surveyed the room, landing quickly on her naked form being held down by the two men, both of whom were gawking in shock at the spectacle before them.

“Help me! Prince Vegeta! Please!” she screamed, tears running in rivulets down her face.

A powerful, golden glow enveloped him, teeth gnashing as he saw her pitiful condition. His eyes bled red, and Bulma sensed his rage as he bared his fangs, and extended his large hands.

“You… _dare…_ lay a hand on _her!”_

Prince Vegeta’s voice thundered around them and the two men let go of her, scrambling up and away from his terrifying presence.

Bulma could do nothing but stare as the Prince rushed forward, his eyes overflowing with wrath, his tightly balled fists clamoring for murder.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	3. The Mysterious Blue Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta fights to keep Bulma safe as malevolent forces creep closer towards her, leading her to make another wish. However, they discover that things may not be as simple as a human conspiracy, as something about Bulma may have been intricately tied into Vegeta's past, as well.  
> Entry for the @tpthvegebulmayhem, Week 2 - Part 2, hosted by @theprinceandtheheiress.  
> Prompt/Challenge: The blood of an Englishman / Plot driven with twisted intent.  
> Chapter Warnings: Profane language; Nudity; Torture; Minor character death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 (of 2) of my Week 2 entry for the Mayhem. I hope you like it!

The attack was over in seconds.

Bulma was unable to tear her gaze away as Prince Vegeta flew towards her fleeing attackers, teeth bared in fury, and a scream lodged in her throat as she watched him effortlessly tear their heads off with his bare hands.

She stared, almost as if in a trance, as the decapitated heads rolled towards her feet.

She noted with morbid fascination that the eyes were left wide open, mouths frozen in their horrified screams as they watched certain death charge at them in the form of an utterly enraged warrior prince.

Prince Vegeta had paused, then turned around, his eyes landing on the petrified, dark-haired woman huddled in the corner, her eyes wide in horror as she watched a single man easily dismember her large comrades within the blink of an eye.

He walked slowly towards her, seemingly relishing the terrified stuttering of the woman who seemed too scared to move.

“P-p-please,” Mai was begging. “No. Don’t k-kill me! I can help you! Have mercy!”

Within a second, the Prince was upon Mai, holding her by the hair as he levitated, so she dangled helplessly above the ground, trying vainly to twist free from his grasp but unable to even budge from the strength of his grip.

“Mercy?” Prince Vegeta growled, the sound guttural and utterly hair-raising in his fury. “You were about to stand back and watch in glee as another female is violently defiled before you.”

He shook her viciously, and Mai gargled as her breath was knocked from her lungs, cringing in fear when the Prince shoved his face before her.

“What measure of mercy would you be deserving of?!” He hissed, raising his free hand, forming a ball of red energy that sizzled and sparked as he pushed it near her face.

She recoiled, and Bulma stared, half-curious and half-horrified as the Prince threatened the dark-haired woman.

“Please! I can … I can tell you who’s responsible. He commissioned me, Pilaf and Shu. He told us to kill the Blue Moon!”

The ball of light from Prince Vegeta’s hand suddenly dissipated, and he dropped the woman to the ground.

Bulma looked up at him and realized that the Prince looked… shocked.

She herself was confused. “ _The Blue Moon_?” she thought, as she wrapped her arms around her bare breasts, curling her legs close to her body to cover her nudity.

The Prince floated down until he was inches from the criminal, who was now shaking, tears flowing down her face as she looked in abject terror at the glowing man before her.

“Speak. What do you know of the Blue Moon?” he demanded, his voice deceptively soft.

“That was what he called Bulma Briefs,” Mai replied throatily. “Kind of like his codename for her. He kept saying that we had to stop her from setting him free.”

“Setting him free? You mean, my father?” Bulma asked as she finally found her voice.

She glanced at the Prince, only to see him clenching his hands into fists, and she couldn’t help but notice that the glow around him kept growing even brighter.

Before Mai can answer her, Prince Vegeta stepped forward, blocking her view of Mai as he addressed her in a voice colder than ice.

“What is his name?”

“The conspiracy is being handled by Ginyu Lewis, he is responsible for Briefs being in jail,” Mai said.

Bulma gasped, finally putting together the last bits of scattered information that she had retrieved.

It made _so much sense._

Lewis had been the supposed whistleblower, an English banker who held all the evidence, and she had long suspected that he was hiding a long paper trail behind a fake one that he had made to implicate her father.

Her thoughts halted when she heard the Prince yelling at the woman.

“I don’t give a fuck about Lewis! I need the name of the man trying to destroy the Blue Moon!”

Bulma reared up in shock. “What… what is going on? Prince Vegeta…”

He ignored her, leaning down to violently shove Mai, pinning her to the ground with a powerful hand wrapped around her neck. “Tell me the name of the man who pulls Lewis’ strings. Now!”

Mai whimpered, hissing as his fist began to glow red once more, and Bulma realized that the power within his hand was _burning_ Mai.

“Give me his Earth name! Now!” the Prince screamed as he lifted the woman, only to shake her violently, leaving her lolling around like a rag doll.

Mai looked at him blearily, clearly in pain, as she whispered, “Cold. His name is Cold.”

As soon as the words left her lips, Prince Vegeta’s fists grew an angry scarlet hue, and Mai screamed in agony, trying in vain to push him off her as his hand began to _ignite._

His hand burst into flames without warning, enveloping Mai in a fantastical display of tremendous power, and in less than a second, her entire body was gone… obliterated by the flames of the Prince’s power.

Bulma stared in shock, cowering into a corner of the room as she stared at the Prince, cringing back as he turned to regard her.

In a second, he was beside her, his hands hovering over her shuddering form, and Bulma closed her eyes as she thought of the ferocious flames that disintegrated the dark-haired woman before she could even deign to scream.

True terror overwhelmed her at the feel of his heat, and she remembered his ferocious snarls as he dismembered the two men before he also killed the female criminal.

She closed her eyes, whimpering as she felt his hand on her head, skimming her blue hair.

She felt him hold her face in his hands, and she realized that he was handling her with utmost care as he tried to make her uncurl from her fetal position against the wall.

“Bulma,” she heard him whisper. “Bulma, look at me. Open your eyes and calm yourself. I am not here to harm you.”

She peeked an eye open, and she noted with astonishment that the earlier furious red glow around him had dissipated, leaving behind a soft, golden light that shined like a halo around his form.

His hands were gentle as he pulled her, holding her wrists away from her body so he could assess her with his bright green eyes.

“Let me see you. Are you injured?” he asked, and Bulma shook her head, unable to speak.

He snapped his fingers, and a long red cloak appeared in his hands. He draped the cloak over her nudity, and her eyes misted over as she spotted the unmistakable concern on his face.

“I am glad that you called for me. Though I wish you had done so sooner, before they…”

He trailed off, and all of a sudden, everything that had happened to her, all that had nearly happened, and the deaths that surrounded her at that very moment rushed into her head, clouding her mind with gruesome images that she knew she could never, ever forget.

Her eyes met his as the tears began to flow once again, and she began to shake as all the fear, disgust, anger and grief from the past few minutes washed over her, threatening to drown her as her tiny body fought hard to manage everything that she had experienced.

Before she knew it, she was wrapped in the Prince’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably into his armored chest as her arms curled desperately around his neck.

She cried, loud, ugly heaves wracking her as she screamed, cursing at the gods, the people who had destroyed their lives, and the people who had gone so far as to try to end hers.

All the while, the fearsome warrior prince who had the power to destroy a human being with less than a single hand just held her, letting her use him as she mourned her ruined life and the deaths that she now felt responsible for.

It felt like hours, but she finally felt the tears begin to run out, and as she sobbed brokenly against Prince Vegeta, she felt his warm hands caressing her back, soothing her softly as he whispered foreign words of comfort into her ear.

When she had finally calmed down, she looked into his eyes, losing herself in the now-obsidian orbs, and she realized with a start that he had powered down from his god-like form and was now back in his dark-haired state.

“P-Prince Vegeta-” she began, but he cut her off with a soft but stern word.

“Vegeta,” he whispered. “Call me Vegeta.”

She nodded, nuzzling her face into his chest as the tenderness behind his softly-spoken words sent tendrils of delight through her chest, unfurling within her petrified heart.

“Vegeta,” she tried again, a small hiccup making her voice catch in her throat. “Thank you.”

She felt him nod against her head, even as a slight stiffness went through him.

“There is no honor in forcing oneself upon a woman,” he growled. “I, along with my men, have hunted down and destroyed countless civilizations… but I would never condone this putrid violation.”

A shudder went through her as she began to understand exactly what kind of person Vegeta was.

He was a warrior prince. A true conqueror, who had formidable power that could wipe out people, perhaps cities, with a single well-aimed blaze. He was a terrifying force of nature, but in spite of his awesome strength, he was honorable, a man of his word.

And right now, he was her rock… the only thing keeping her fragile self from shattering into a million pieces.

“What… what should we do about those… those men?” she asked, thinking of the headless corpses that she knew were just a few feet away from her.

He pulled away from her, and she watched as he lifted a hand, pushed his magnificent power into the tips of his fingers, before he aimed at the scattered bodies, making them disappear.

He turned his hand to the bloody sack near the doorway, and Bulma choked as she watched him disintegrate that as well, and her heart felt heavier than lead as she thought of poor little Dende, who had lost his life due to these ridiculous machinations.

Vegeta moved again, gathered her into his arms, carrying her effortlessly as she curled into his chest.

He lifted a hand to his forehead, two fingers raised, and Bulma felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her before she suddenly found herself within the safe confines of her tiny apartment.

He set her down to sit on her bed, before he opened her cabinet and pulled out a shirt and a pair of loose pants.

“Get dressed,” he whispered. “Your mother is cooking. I believe it would not be a good idea to let her know of tonight’s events.”

Vegeta turned around as Bulma dressed, and she called out to him once she was decent.

They both peeked around the thin wall, finding Panchy flittering around the tiny kitchen and dining area, which was separated from the tiny living room by a thin divider.

“I shall leave now,” Vegeta whispered.

“No!” Bulma cried, grabbing his arm in a tight, white-knuckled grip. “Stay, please… I… I’m still scared, Vegeta.”

“I can’t let your mother see me, woman,” he answered. “However, I assure you… I will not stray far. And the moment she falls asleep, I shall come to you.”

She nodded reluctantly, letting go of his arm. “Tonight then… and please be ready because…”

Bulma swallowed, opting to speak before either her nerves got the best of her, or her brain realized that she was about to give in to a very stupid idea.

“Vegeta, later tonight, I will make another wish.”

8-8-8-8-8

The moon was high in the sky, looking forlornly down at Bulma as she opened the door out into the rooftop.

She took a deep breath, summoning her courage as she held her amulet, and softly called out.

“Vegeta.” 

He materialized before her, and Bulma noted that he was still in his dark-haired form. However, he was now wearing a sinister grin, and he cracked his knuckles, as if in anticipation of a good fight.

“I expect to bathe in **_the_** **_blood of an Englishman_** tonight, woman,” he remarked, a feral gleam in his eyes.

Bulma shook her head, looking him dead in the eye as she spoke.

“I don’t wish for Lewis to die, Vegeta. At least, not now. However, I want to bring him to ruin,” she said vehemently, seething at the thought of the man who had caused her so much misery.

If she were being completely honest with herself, a bloodthirsty part of her wished so much to have Vegeta kill him… but that would not serve the purpose she needed.

“Vegeta… I wish for him to confess to every single wrongdoing that implicated my father into this mess. I wish… I wish for my father to be proven innocent, immediately. Can you do that?”

Vegeta’s grin widened, before he began to glow once  again, his hair and eyes changing back into the menacing gold and green that she had first seen him in. He raised his hands, and Bulma watched as a small orb of power once again gathered between his palms.

The orb cast light upon their faces, and it began to grow until it was a sphere twice as large as the one he made during her first wish.

“You wish for the complete confession of Ginyu Lewis, to exonerate your father from the crimes he did not commit. In return, I shall add this debt to the one you already owe me, and the final price shall be named at a later time. Do you accept these terms?”

Bulma nodded, resolute.

She needed her father to be freed.

The cost of the final price be damned.

“Yes,” she responded. “I, Bulma Briefs, accept these terms.”

Vegeta smirked, smacking his hands together, as if crushing the orb of light, before thin slivers of red light flew from between his fingers, heading out in the direction of the main city.

He stared at her, unblinking, before he hissed.

“It shall be done.”

8-8-8-8-8

The morning news exploded as the unbelievable confession of Ginyu Lewis became the most trending international headline of the year.

The man brought forth every single financial document that he had in his possession, a look of terror in his eyes as he voluntarily owned up to every single embezzlement scheme that he had spearheaded, implicating over twenty different politicians in what has become apparent was a widescale scheme that spun the government’s funds around aimlessly until it landed in a corrupt official’s pocket.

Within a week of the confession, all of the guilty parties had been arrested.

Trunks Briefs was exonerated, all charges dropped, accompanied by a public apology from the Supreme Court and a large settlement equivalent to ten times the amount he had been accused of embezzling.

But all those had been nothing compared to the unparalleled joy on the haggard scientist’s face as he was finally reunited with his wife and daughter.

Once their properties and finances were released, Bulma promptly gave a huge sum of money to the owners of the diner she had been working at, as her way of expressing her gratitude to them for hiring her at a time when no one else will.

The employees of Capsule Corp were ecstatic to have the family back, and the Briefs used the settlement money to provide a bonus to all the employees who stayed with them through the months of embargo.

Bulma cut herself off from all of her so-called friends, none of whom had been brave enough to stand by her in her time of need, and threw her ex-boyfriend, Yamcha, out of the Briefs compound a second after he set foot within the premises. He too, had left her when she needed him, and she had no use for a man who could not support her during the worst moments of her life.

There was, however, one man that did, even though he wasn’t _exactly_ a man.

Bulma called upon Vegeta every day as she began to settle back into her old routine.

His silent grins and scoffed remarks kept her on her toes, and Bulma realized that having the strange warrior spirit around her filled her with a profound sense of comfort that she had never felt with anyone before.

He was strangely protective of her, hovering in the shadows, and she welcomed his slight intrusions as he slowly injected himself into her daily activities.

It was like having a friend who you could literally depend on to save your life, and it didn’t take long at all before Bulma realized that he had turned into her most trusted and valued acquaintance.

It certainly did not hurt that the man was absolutely striking, and she had seen enough of him to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that every single inch of his amazing body was molded to perfection, a canvas of sculpted muscles and delicious caramel skin.

It almost made her forget that he was a man capable of leveling cities, and had the uncanny ability to manifest anything he needed with a literal snap of his fingers.

She only wished that he would just tell her what the price that he wanted was, since her dread of the inevitable payment put a damper on her happiness, as she kept wondering what he could possibly want from her, and why he was taking so long asking her for it.

She almost feared that his price was so high, that even he was reluctant to charge her.

8-8-8-8-8

On a tiny island far from the cities, was a small house that was occupied by a very old man and his elder sister.

The small house, to any ordinary man, was a simple little yellow bungalow that hid beneath the shade of a single palm tree.

What the ordinary man wouldn’t know though, was that the tiny home hid a small dark door that served as a portal that opened up into the netherworld…

And guarding that portal, was the elder sister… a tiny woman with faded pink hair, and piercing red eyes that saw centuries’ worth of mysteries from the depths of her large crystal ball.

Uranai held the crystal ball in her hands, concentrating on locating the last of the men.

The Prince would be needing them all, he was so close…

She had guarded the cursed orb of the Saiyan Prince for years, waiting for the one who could set him free. And she knew that the prince was one step closer to reaching his goal.

A bountiful reward awaited her, if she succeeded in assisting him.

The sensation of a great power erupted from behind her, alerting her to the arrival of the most formidable force that she had ever encountered.

She grinned. Her sources at the netherworld had been correct. The Prince truly was, awe-inspiring.

“Oi. Uranai,” his low voice called as she turned, facing the Prince.

Prince Vegeta stood in his usual battle armor, a golden glow surrounding his body, before he powered down before her, returning to the form that was native to all people of his race.

The dark hair and dark eyes of the mighty Saiyans.

“I have gathered them, my Lord. The last one, Son Goku, known to you as Kakarot, is on his way here from his home in the mountains. He has a son, but he is too young to join you…”

“A young son? How was this possible, there are no Saiyan females anymore…” the Prince asked in clear astonishment.

“A Saiyan-Earthling hybrid. Kakarot, had managed to marry an earthling and have a child with her. The child, Kakarot says, has amazing potential, but is not old enough to fight for you.”

Prince Vegeta glanced away. “Interesting…”

“You can truly rebuild the Saiyan race here, if you wish, Prince Vegeta.”

“There is no need for that. We need only to follow the intended plan.” he answered, turning away from Uranai. “Besides, there is no Earthling female that interests me.”

The crone straightened at the Prince’s last words. There was a strange edge to his statement, a defensive sort of anger that did not escape the old woman’s attention.

“ _Could it be…”_ thought Uranai.

“How fares the girl, Prince Vegeta?” she asked, slyly hiding her suspicions from the now-distracted Saiyan.

A very small, nearly unnoticeable smile graced the Prince’s lips before he wiped it away with a scowl.

“She is the one, Uranai. The Blue Moon. I feel it in her, screaming from every pore. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her.”

“Then what is taking you so long, My Lord? You have been biding your time for months…”

“Do not question me, crone,” he snapped. “I have my reasons.”

“You realize that for you to be restored fully, you need her to-”

“I know what I need to do!” he shouted, angrily turning to her, fists blazing with flames in his aggravation. “But I still need time. There would be no use rushing into it if the living Saiyans are not even complete yet.”

“It is up to you, My Lord,” she responded, bowing low at the display of his power.

“I shall defeat the monster who destroyed my people, Uranai. And I will definitely use the Blue Moon to achieve that goal. You need only to do what I have asked you to do, and I shall take care of the rest,” he growled, before he flared into a massive ball of energy and shot out of the tiny house amid a furious flurry of fire and wind.

Uranai frowned as the Prince flew off. Looking at the Prince now, she realized that the Blue Moon, as much as they needed her, may potentially cause them a problem, as well.

Unless Prince Vegeta does what he needs to do with the Blue Moon, all their carefully-constructed plans will fail…

And it would not do at all, for the Prince to fail this time.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	4. The Spirit Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma’s curiosity leads her to make a few startling discoveries, while her and Vegeta’s bond continues to grow stronger. However, evil is always afoot, and Bulma finds herself in a situation where, possibly, not even Vegeta could save her.  
> Entry for the @tpthvegebulmayhem, Week 3.  
> Prompt: 1) Twenty mattresses and a pea; 2) Who is trip-trapping on my bridge.  
> Chapter Warnings: Profane language; Crime and Violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Week 3 entry was more than 17,000 words long, so I have split it into three parts. This is Part 1 of 3. I hope you like it!

As a woman of science, Bulma Briefs was a naturally curious person.

Since she was a little child, Bulma had always been the type who would never be content with short answers. There always had to be an explanation… a logical reason behind everything, every concept and every occurrence.

She needed to be convinced… to know exactly how something worked, before she would ever begin to be at peace regarding anything.

It was because of her inherent inquisitive nature, that Bulma was perpetually aggravated about the one thing in her life right then that did not quite make sense.

Vegeta.

He was the only person who thought of and believed in her abilities, spurring her to begin her research into the true embezzlers. It was something that she, in her focus on keeping her mother alive, had all but forgotten, but he somehow knew that she could have had what it takes to find the true perpetrators.

It had let the corrupt ones know that Bulma was still a player in the game, causing them to go after her, leading her into wishing her problems away. Even though her research had never needed to see the light of day after all, it had still been a catalyst in how everything had wrapped up.

There was also the fact that Vegeta always seemed to have a predilection for protecting her. He had saved her from her would-be rapists and murderers, and now kept near-constant vigil with her.

In the three months that she had known him, the Prince had become a steady companion to her, a regular fixture in her life, no matter how deeply he remained firmly hidden in the shadows whenever any other person drew near.

There were times when he seemed so normal, so unapologetically _human,_ that she almost forgot that he was actually a mysterious phantom, a warrior spirit that she had summoned to grant her impossible wishes.

He was a demon of sorts, who seemed to still be biding his time until he finally revealed the final price that he would be taking from her, in return for his services.

She dreaded the moment when he would finally come up to her and ask for his payment, and that, within itself, aggravated her even more, since she had recently realized that it wasn’t her fear of the ultimate consequences of her wishes that she truly dreaded…

Bulma realized that she was terrified of the time when he finally stopped playing games with her, since she knew that upon gaining his price, Vegeta will, undoubtedly, leave.

It scared her witless when she understood that, all that spectacular golden-haired power aside, she did not want him to go.

She was dying to understand him, to know more about him, beyond the small snippets of random memories that he shared with her whenever he was lethargically pumped-full of good food.

And ultimately… she wanted him to stay.

At the moment, she was content with having him literally floating with her in their family’s private swimming pool while they snacked on tropical fruits.

“And what is this one?” he asked, picking up a slice of yellow fruit.

“That is pineapple,” she answered. “You’ve had that before.”

“It looks different,” he said, popping the fruit in question into his mouth.

“This was sliced into chunks,” she commented, picking up a small bit of melon. “Bite-sized, easier to eat.”

“Tch,” he sneered. “You Earthlings… too lazy to even bite into food.”

She lowered her sunglasses, peering at him over the top of the rims.

She was on a pool float, wearing a blue two-piece bikini… one that she had purposefully picked out, as she recalled that it made her boobs look amazing.

The Prince was hovering in the air beside her, hand digging into her fruit bowl. He was wearing a pair of shorts and no shirt, an attire that she had coaxed him into, and as she ran her eyes up and down his obscenely defined chest and abdomen, she rationalized that her scheming to have him half-naked was her benevolent gift to mankind.

He was quite the view.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Mr. Prince of a warrior race. You can’t tell me that you didn’t have servants slicing your fruit for you.”

“My servants cooked my meat and peeled my produce. We didn’t have them cut the plants up into _chunks,”_ he sneered, even as he merrily helped himself to another piece.

He was trying to find another slice of mango when he froze, and Bulma stiffened as she watched his eyes glaze over.

She knew what was coming next.

In a flash, he had materialized into his armor, eyes alert, body tense.

“I need to go,” he muttered tersely, before he brought two fingers to his forehead in a now-familiar gesture, a second before he vanished into thin air.

Bulma sighed.

The man was a true mystery, one that she wished to unlock. She wanted to know who and what he was, forcefully casting aside her questions regarding _why_ exactly she was so determined to get to know him.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta appeared into the middle of the tiny island house, looking around for the old woman who had called to him.

He keenly felt the ki signatures of his men, sensations that he had recently become reacquainted with.

He strode out of the house, noting the pandemonium happening just beyond the shore.

A tall, spiky haired Saiyan floated above the waters. He was wearing an orange martial arts gi and he was soaked in sweat, focusing a small and extremely potent energy ball into his hand, before he, with a strangled shout, blasted the tiny orb into the sea, forcing the placid waters to rise into towering waves of energy.

A few meters up into the sky, Vegeta spied the sparring forms of two disproportionately large men; both wearing the same orange attire as the first man, but while the first was lean, these men are both extremely muscular. For these two, however, one was completely bald headed, and the other had entirely too much hair.

Vegeta powered up, drawing their collective attentions to him.

All activity stopped, and the three hastily flew downwards, dropping down on one knee before him, with their right fists clutched tightly to the left side of their chests, heads down in supplication.

“Your Highness,” the bald one, the highest-ranked of the three, was in the middle.

“Nappa,” Vegeta greeted. “At ease.”

All three stood, facing their Prince.

Their race was gone, and only these three remained as his subjects. Though Vegeta would never admit it aloud, he was glad that they remained loyal to the crown.

“Raditz,” he turned to the man whose thick, dark hair was down to his knees. “I trust your travels went well.”

“Yes, my Lord,” he nodded. “I rushed here as fast as I could from planet Arlia, when I was told that you were back. I am honored to be in your presence once again.”

“And you, Kakarot, how fares your training?” he asked of the youngest one, who had barely been a man when he had last seen him.

“It has been going well, Prince Vegeta,” he scratched at his spiky hair as he went on, “I just need to relearn to focus my long-range attacks.”

“It is understandable that you are out of practice, as you have been at peace for several years,” Vegeta said. “Where is the crone?”

“Here, Prince Vegeta,” a hoarse old voice called out, making all four men turn to look back at the tiny house.

Uranai stood at the doorway, her crystal ball floating beside her as she took her slow steps towards the Saiyans.

“I am glad to see that you have all been reunited now. I am sure that the Prince is delighted to have his team back together.”

“Thank you for gathering us, Uranai,” Nappa said. “When the Prince was released, I felt his ki immediately, but Raditz was off planet, and Kakarot here had rather vague memories of our battles and was thus unable to quickly place the ki.”

“He had been barely more than a young boy at the time,” Raditz said. “Kakarot was only fourteen Saiyan suns old.”

“I am now twenty eight, by Saiyan count, right?” Goku asked. “Because we have been on Earth for nearly thirty years.”

Vegeta did the mental math. He had been imprisoned in the middle realm, within the ball, for fifteen Saiyan suns… thirty Earth years.

“Yes, and it has been thirty Earth years too long,” Vegeta said.

He took a deep breath, passion igniting in his eyes as he commanded. “Prepare yourselves, my loyal Saiyans. Soon, we shall go into war. And this time, we _will_ win.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma tossed and turned in bed, unable to shake the feeling that something, at that very moment, was going incredibly wrong.

It was a gloomy evening, cool in temperature, but the darkness was so deep that it seemed even the moon and the stars hid from sight. The blackness was so disconcerting, more so since she was bogged down by worry for her missing non-human friend.

It had been three days since Vegeta disappeared, and she wasn’t quite sure if it was alright to call for him since he had looked so troubled when he last left.

She had waited for him to show up like usual, perhaps popping into existence beside her, or slithering into her bedroom in the dead of night.

She sighed, resolved to go to sleep, even as she offhandedly wondered if perhaps she was just uncomfortable on her new bed.

She had purchased a new, larger one after they came back to Capsule Corp, because she felt like the world owed it to her to let her lay on the largest possible bed after she had been forced to sleep on a narrow, hard cot for months.

She had taken forever to choose her bed, rejecting at least **_twenty mattresses_** until she finally settled on what she felt was the perfect one.

She was laying on the most amazing bed this side of West City, **_and_** yet, was unable to sleep because **_a_** certain **_pea_** -brained man had her worried to death over his whereabouts.

She was about to finally give up and just take sleeping pills when a dim flash of light appeared beside her, and she turned in surprise as she watched the form of the flame-haired man begin to form.

She almost heaved a sigh of relief, before she remembered that she was actually rather cross with him.

“What the hell have you been up to?” she asked suspiciously as soon as he was fully-visible before her. “I didn’t see you all weekend.”

Vegeta approached her side, floating gingerly beside her bed. “I have been sorting out some… private matters.”

She frowned, then reached over to flick on her bedside lamp.

A loud gasp was wrenched from her chest at the sight that greeted her.

“Oh my God! What happened to you?” she shrieked, one hand reaching out, as if to touch him, but her hand remained hovering a few inches away from his arm as confusion and alarm warred for dominance inside her head.

It was like Vegeta was there, but not completely. She blinked hard, until she finally accepted that what she was seeing was real.

Vegeta was nearly translucent.

It was like he was nothing but a mere reflection on a glass window, and Bulma was utterly mystified, worry eating at her as she looked at him, even while he himself remained nonplussed.

“Do not fret, woman. I am fine,” he responded, carelessly leaning back until he was floating beside her bed on his back.

“Are you… are you nuts?” she shrilled. “You’re see-through, Vegeta. How do you expect me not to freak out?”

“It is nothing. Besides, this is not the first time.”

Bulma’s eyesbrows shot up. “Yes it is.”

“It is perhaps the first time that I have come to you in this condition. I see now that I should not have done so.”

She felt a tiny pang of pain at this. “You… you regret letting me see you… like this?” she asked, and the hurt must have come through in her voice, since he turned to face her directly, brows lowered together as he spoke.

“I do not regret it. However, I did not intend to frighten you.”

She smiled. “I’m not scared, Vegeta. I’m worried for you… with you like this, I think… are you sick or something? Will you… will you tell me why this happened?”

He kept staring at her as she spoke, and she thought she saw a flash of emotion flit through his eyes, only to be rapidly dashed as he answered.

“This night… I am weak tonight, Bulma. My strength follows a cycle. It would have been wiser for me to remain hidden, alone, and yet… I don’t understand why but… but I wanted-” he shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Vegeta,” she whispered, reaching out, very gently laying a hand on his arm.

He felt cold.

It was a shock, considering that she could still remember the fiery heat of his skin, when she summoned him on that fateful night of the full moon...

“Vegeta, tell me? You wanted… what?” she said gently.

He looked away, crossing his arms tight across his chest.

“I don’t really understand my motives… but I wanted to be here tonight, Bulma.”

Her heart stopped, before it furiously began pumping so strongly that the beats seemed deafening within her ears.

He… he wanted to see her, when he was at his weakest.

She could not comprehend the elation that filled her entire body as she thought that perhaps… perhaps this meant that he felt _at home_ with her.

“I can still destroy this entire planet with a single finger, I simply tire more quickly in this state,” he bragged, and Bulma noticed that, in spite of the bravado behind his words, she could still see a slight flush behind his translucent cheeks.

She was no closer to understanding who he really was… _what_ he really was…

But Bulma now understood that on some level, the spectacularly powerful Prince felt at ease with her.

Perhaps.. Just as much as she felt _safe_ , with him.

“Maybe… maybe you should get some sleep,” she said, moving over, patting the side of her bed invitingly.

He looked down at her hand on the sheets, and though he said nothing, she could sense the war going on behind his eyes.

“Vegeta, it is a very large bed. You could just… lay here. If you don’t feel your best today, maybe some sleep would help,” Bulma said as she began to pull the sheets back.

The Prince looked extremely conflicted, but Bulma noticed that he was floating closer and closer to her side. Before he could change his mind, she reached out and tugged him down to lay beside her.

He lay down with a small sigh. “These sheets really do feel good.”

“They do,” she said, turning so her back faced him as she settled into the comforter.

A yawn left her lips then, and she noted with surprise that she finally felt the desire to sleep.

“Good night, my Prince,” she said lethargically, before her eyes closed, and she was lost to slumber.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta never really seemed to need much sleep.

The morning after his night of weakness, just as he did every day, he woke at the break of dawn. He looked down at his chest, sighing in relief as he noticed that he was back to his tangible form.

However, unlike on all other nights, he woke surrounded by the soft scent of exotic flowers, the smell of fresh morning dew, teasing his body into wakefulness as it quieted the typical chaos of his mind.

Her scent… was like a salve for his exhausted, ravaged being.

He turned to his right, seeing the riotous wave of blue that partially covered the creamy white skin of the woman’s beautifully sculpted face.

He reached a hand out, wanting to brush the locks of hair away from her cheeks, before he caught himself, and with a disgusted huff, he rose, flying out of the room through her large, open glass window.

Perhaps, thirty Earth years without contact with anyone, other than the memories of his battles in his head, had made him soft.

It had been thirty Earth years since he was tricked into being trapped in that blasted orb. He, in a desperate attempt to tether himself to the living world, sent out a final ball of ki that contained a small part of his spirit.

He had intended to use that ball of energy to pull himself out of the middle realm, but as he had not fully mastered ki alchemy yet, the ki ball dissipated in an unexpected way that now landed him in this… _problematic_ situation.

He knew what he had to do.

However, whenever he thought of going ahead with the next step, he would be halted by the image of smiling pink lips and light blue eyes, and his resolve would crumble into dust.

_Bulma…_

He had realized as soon as he gazed at her terrified face as she summoned him, that things had become a tad more complicated than he had originally intended.

He had stupidly indulged his curiosity that first night, when he had claimed that he was asking her for an “initial fee”.

He had not anticipated the electrifying heat of her skin, the exhilarating feel of her lips.

He was not prepared for how his blood roared to life, pumping madly through his veins as he clutched her close, feeding from her mouth as he appeased his hunger with her softness.

It was a mistake.

He thought of his small remaining team of Saiyans, remembering their determined faces, and he knew that for the sake of these few men who still believed in him, he could not afford to make any more missteps.

For the sake of his men… for the sake of all the Saiyans whose spirits are now clamoring for revenge against the man who betrayed them…

No matter how his own soul screamed at him that he needed to protect Bulma… His own personal inclinations be damned…

He _must_ claim his price.

8-8-8-8-8

“Ms. Bulma, your next appointment will be in fifteen minutes.”

Bulma smiled gratefully at her secretary, knowing that the girl must have gone through enormous lengths to squeeze in those precious few moments as her break.

“Thank you, Lazuli,” she said.

The girl turned away with a small nod, leaving Bulma alone in her office.

She needed some spare time for her to be able to concentrate on her new discoveries.

Her curiosity regarding Vegeta, and the circumstances behind their meeting, never ceased to bother her, moreso now that she could not ever seem to get him out of her mind.

Now that she was back in Capsule Corp, she once again had the resources to help her find information, and though she was still unable to find anything about Vegeta, she realized that there was one character whom she could pursue, that could link her back to him.

The old woman who had given her the glass ball.

Bulma did not know much beyond the name that she had been given, but the more she thought about the day she met the old lady, the more she began to realize that their meeting was not by chance.

She was convinced that it had been deliberate, and Bulma used the only thing she remembered from that night to help her find the answers.

The old lady had called herself, _Uranai._

The word was common, but fortunately, she had found one peculiar entry in a very old newspaper archive… from two hundred years ago.

She used this as her starting point, and from there, managed to find a contact that had promised to provide her with more information about the mysterious Uranai.

They had found that the old article was referring to a lady who called herself Uranai Kame.

Bulma was expecting an email from this contact, and as soon as Lazuli left, she immediately accessed her personal email.

The first unread email that she saw in her inbox was from her contact, Krillin.

Excitement flowed through her as she opened the attached PDF, and she sucked in a breath at what she saw.

The first page was a very old photograph, a very grainy and shadowy sepia image that showed a lady in her early fifties, wearing a very dark cloak and a stereotypical pointed black hat.

In spite of the clear changes brought by age, Bulma immediately recognized the light hair and small but angular face, and she could have sworn that she could see the eyes turn dark red, the longer she stared at the photo.

It was the old lady Uranai from that night in the dark street. She was absolutely positive.

On the second page was a strange set of coordinates, and Bulma realized that it was the last known location of the old woman.

Bulma nearly ran out of her office, instructing Lazuli to cancel all of her remaining appointments.

This, was more important than all of those meetings, combined.

8-8-8-8-8

The coordinates were leading Bulma to the middle of the sea.

She had taken off in a hovercraft, and as she flew deeper and deeper into nothingness, she was beginning to think that perhaps, the information from Krillin was inaccurate.

A large chorus of sparks in the distance caught her attention, and she realized that the sparks were almost right above the point that she was trying to travel to.

She sped up, turning on her cloaking mechanism as her earlier excitement began to return, and she gasped as she finally understood what, exactly, she had been seeing from a distance.

It appeared to be three large men, floating – flying! –in mid-air, simultaneously firing long rays of energy from… something. Whatever they were using, it must have been miniscule, as she swore that, from her vantage point, it appeared as if they were firing blasts from their bare hands.

She tried to slow down as much as possible, to keep the volume of her already silent car to a minimum.

Her head began to pound in anticipation as she saw a tiny island, in the middle of the vast sea, a ways away from the three men.

The coordinates were correct!

A small house stood in the center, shaded by a single palm tree. She parked her hovercraft behind the house, away from the three floating men, before she encapsulated it, storing the miniaturized vehicle in her pocket as she began to walk towards the house.

Her heels dug into the sand, and she knocked lightly on the back door, not waiting for a response before she tried the door knob.

The door was unlocked, and she pushed it open, walking into the tiny home that had sparse furnishings within a tiny living room, flanked by a kitchen and a narrow set of stairs leading down into what she could only assume was a cellar.

Bulma was about to head back outside to sit in the sand until someone came home, when she stopped dead, hearing a peculiar howling sound coming from somewhere close by.

It sounded as if the sound was inside the house, but the entire interior of the house was within her view, so that seemed rather impossible.

She stood silently, unmoving, listening for the sound again.

Nothing.

“Must have been my imagination, then,” she muttered, turning once again to leave.

Another sound, closer to a growling sound this time, sounded once again, and Bulma stilled as she finally realized that the sound was coming from somewhere _beneath_ her.

Her eyes flew to the narrow set of stairs leading downwards.

Before she could think twice about it, Bulma made her way to the small entryway, peering into the darkness below.

The sounds she heard from within sounded inhuman, but even as she shook in terror, she started making her way down the stairs.

She still wore Vegeta’s amulet around her neck, on a longer chain, so it remained hidden behind her clothes. She clutched it through the cloth of her blouse, ready to scream for him at the slightest sign of danger.

The stairs creaked slightly beneath her light feet, every small sound making her cringe in paranoia.

The cellar grew darker as the growling and howling grew louder, and Bulma, startled, missed a step, catching herself on the narrow banister before she fell, but her abrupt movement made a loud, knocking sound on the steps, and Bulma heard the howling noises come to an abrupt halt.

“Who’s there?” a familiar voice, raspy and tinged with irritation, called from further into the cellar, making Bulma freeze.

She heard steps coming closer, small, slow steps…

“ ** _Who is trip-trapping_** into the cellar? I have told you all to stay away from this place when I am **_on my_** Spirit **_Bridge_** ,” the old voice called.

Bulma sucked in a breath as the footsteps turned a corner, and she saw the tiny woman from before, fading pink hair covered by a pointed hat, flowing robes concealing her short and gnarled form.

“Prince, is that-” Uranai stopped mid-sentence as their eyes met, a small gasp leaving her as her eyes widened, jaw slack in surprise.

“Y-you!” the crone shouted, pointing a finger at Bulma. “What are you doing here?”

Bulma put her hands on her hips, glaring at the old woman. “I was looking for you! I want some answers about that orb, old lady!”

“You should not be here! This is no place for a young, living woman such as yourself!” Uranai said as panic settled onto her wrinkled features.

“Upstairs with you! You’re lucky the spirits did not sense you!” Uranai said as she forcibly pushed Bulma up the stairs, and Bulma, in her confusion, just went along with it, taking the steps two at a time as she felt the sense of urgency in the old woman’s hands.

When they were both on the upper floor, the tiny old woman quickly turned, pushing a slab of wood that Bulma had not noticed there before, to cover the entry into the cellar.

Bulma watched as Uranai huffed in exertion, and as soon as the cover was fixed, she turned back to Bulma, a look of astonishment mixed with the upset in her face.

“How did you even find this place?” she asked, and Bulma straightened, annoyed.

“I have my methods. But you!” Bulma pointed an accusing finger at Uranai. “You! When we met, that was not a coincidence, was it? You planned that meeting! Why? What is going on?”

Uranai cringed, and Bulma stared in defiance as the woman’s gaze flitted around, as if trying to find a way to escape.

All of a sudden, Bulma felt a large, incredibly heavy pair of hands clasp onto her arms at her sides, and she screamed as she felt herself lifted up in the air.

“Aiyeeeee! Let me go! Put me down!” she shrieked, trying her hardest to turn her head to see her attacker as her legs flailed helplessly beneath her.

“Oi Uranai? Who is this?” a loud, deep voice called out, and Bulma stiffened at the gruff tone.

“Who are you? Let me go! Just wait til I get Vegeta, he’s gonna kick your overgrown ass into space!” she screamed indignantly.

The man behind her jostled her a bit, before he addressed Uranai. “Oi. This woman. How does she know the Prince?”

Uranai sighed, seemingly in defeat, before she answered. “Nappa. That woman is the Blue Moon.”

The hands holding her suddenly released her, and Bulma fell to the ground, her butt painfully hitting the floor.

“Oof!” she cried, turning accusing eyes at the man who dropped her.

Her eyes widened as they travelled an inordinately long distance until she reached the top of her captor’s head. The man was humongous, a bald behemoth with arms wider than trees, legs twice as thick, and a torso larger than a buffalo’s.

Behind him stood two other men. Bulma realized that these were the three flying men from earlier, when she saw the long, wild hair of the second man, which she recognized even from her earlier distance.

The third man was tall, with unruly hair, and large round eyes… that looked a tad familiar.

Bulma craned her head, peering curiously at the thinnest man.

She gasped as a distant memory from her teens resurfaced, and she scrambled to her knees, not quite believing her eyes.

“Goku?” she asked, a bit uncertain.

Surely, it wasn’t possible…

The man in question perked up, looking at her questioningly, before his own eyes widened comically.

“Bulma?! You’re the Blue Moon?” the spiky-haired man exclaimed, pushing past the two other men as he ran excitedly to her.

“I can’t believe it! It’s been a while! Wow, you look so different!”

Bulma stared.

She had met Goku when she went on a mountain trek with her friends, fifteen years ago, when she was fifteen.

Goku had been a helpful older boy, leading her and her friends to the easiest paths, befriending them before he suddenly disappeared as they reached their destination.

Bulma almost didn’t recognize him, since Goku looked _younger_ than her now.

“We came in because we thought we felt Prince Vegeta arrive,” the long-haired man said from behind Goku. “Now I see why something felt different.”

“It was her, Raditz, that’s why,” Uranai said, before she motioned for everyone to follow her into the tiny living room.

It looked rather ridiculous… three large, muscular men, squatted over a low table, flanking the shriveled old lady, all facing Bulma.

Bulma took a deep breath, before she spoke.

“What was that down there Uranai? And who are you guys? How do know me? And how were you all _flying_?” she asked, voice rising in volume as she felt her confusion mount.

Uranai regarded her carefully. “That down there, is the Spirit Bridge… a portal into the netherworld. I am the custodian of the portal. And you…” Uranai paused, fixing her red eyes on Bulma. “I know of you, because you share a spirit link with the Prince, whose soul has been under my watch for over a decade.”

Uranai coughed, gesturing at the three men. “These three, are Saiyans. They are Prince Vegeta’s warriors.”

Bulma swallowed. “And where is Prince Vegeta?”

Nappa spoke, brows drawn together in confusion. “We actually believed that he was with you.”

Uranai nodded. “He left today, saying he was about to get ready. You see Bulma… the Prince needs something from you… and we thought he was about to claim it today.”

Bulma stilled with realization. “The price? He needs to take it from me now?”

A bright, angry aura suddenly appeared, and all four jumped back as the red glow licked menacingly at them, moments before they cleared and revealed the golden form of the extremely livid Prince.

“Woman! What are you doing here?” he demanded. His fists were clenched tightly, eyes blazing, his voice a hair-raising, angry growl that had the three Saiyans cowering before him.

“My Lord!” Nappa said, scrambling to supplicate and get on one knee before him, his bald head down. “She just showed up. We were about to ask her to leave.”

Vegeta focused his intense green eyes on Bulma, and she cringed back, an apologetic grimace on her face.

“Vegeta,” she said gently, and she felt the eyes of Uranai and the three Saiyans turn sharply to her.

“I just…” Bulma stuttered. “I was searching for Uranai. I… I had a few questions…”

Vegeta swooped down and puller her up by her forearms, lifting her until she stood straight up before him.

He pulled her in with one hand, splaying her flush against his body, while he brought one hand up, two fingers raised to his forehead.

She felt that quick, dizzying sensation that made the bottom drop out of her stomach, a second before she found herself on solid ground, inside her bedroom, alone with the furious prince.

“Let me hear those questions,” he commanded as he released her, gently pushing her down to sit on her bed, while he backed away, leaning against a wall, arms crossed across his chest.

“You’re angry,” she muttered, casting her eyes down, not able to look at him as she saw the furious slant of his eyes grow narrower.

She heard him sigh, before she felt the furious aura surrounding him fizzle out. She heard his light footsteps as he approached her, sitting beside her on her bed.

He sighed. “That island is dangerous, Bulma. If you had been any other Earthling, the portal would have devoured you.”

She looked up, peering into his now dark eyes. “Why? Why me? I went there to ask Uranai why she gave me the ball that held you. I don’t understand… I want answers.”

She turned so her whole body was turned to him, and she slowly reached out until her hand covered his that were resting on his knees.

He turned his hand slightly, letting their fingers twine softly, and Bulma felt an incredible thrill at the feel of his gloved fingers gently linking with her own.

That feeling, was another thing that she needed to understand.

“I… Vegeta. I have grown fond of you. Maybe a little too much,” she whispered hesitantly, and she felt him stiffen slightly as she continued. “I just needed to know… more, before I get into a situation that I couldn’t get out of. I know that… there are a lot of things that you wouldn’t tell me but, can I just have… anything?”

Vegeta looked hard at her, before he too turned his body so he faced her on the bed. “Bulma. I will tell you all I can. But do not ask me for more, as I can tell you nothing beyond this.”

Bulma nodded, anticipation filling her as he took a deep breath, before he began. “I am the Prince of an extinct race. We were called the Saiyans, and we inhabited a planet called Vegeta-sei, a few light years away from Earth.”

She sucked in a breath. She had suspected, from his earlier slip-ups, that Vegeta was not from Earth. His powers, his strange behaviors, and the complete absence of literature for any possible legends behind his glass orb, now made so much more sense.

He continued. “Those three men you met back there, along with I, are the last of our kind. We were betrayed by an evil being thirty Earth years ago, who had not just destroyed our home, but also trapped me in the ball. We are here, waiting for the perfect time to take our revenge.”

“You got mixed up in this because of an earlier complication. We needed someone who _wanted_ to free me, and since you needed a wish, your desire for the wish made it seem to the powers-that-be like you desired to release _me_. I do, however, need that final price from you still, since I need it to lead my remaining people to victory.”

Bulma nodded. She knew that what he was telling her was just the beginning, but she had agreed not to ask for more than what he could tell her.

There was one question that nagged her though, and unable to stop herself, she asked, “Why haven’t you claimed the final price, then? If you need it?”

He stilled, and she thought she saw a haunted look enter his eyes as he responded. “Because I am not quite ready, yet.”

He brought his two fingers up to his forehead then, and before Bulma could stop him, he disappeared.

She spent the rest of the remaining day mulling about his words, trying to figure out what he meant when he said that he wasn’t ready to ask her for the price yet.

He may have given her some answers… but he just made her come up with even more questions, as well.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma was up to her neck in work, after her impromptu ditching from the day before. She was barely getting by, and not even Lazuli’s fastidiousness helped with the mounting paperwork and twice as many appointments, due to her regular ones _and_ the previous day’s cancelled ones all being squeezed into one day.

She was dying to get to the last appointment of the day, a four o’clock meeting with the head of a refrigeration company.

The last of the paperwork finally petered down, and she looked at the clock in her office with exhaustion, relieved to see that it was finally three fifty-nine in the afternoon.

“One last meeting and I’ll be home free!” she sing-songed, and exactly as the clock struck four, her phone rang.

“Ms. Bulma,” Lazuli greeted. “Your four-o’clock is here.”

“Please send them in, and you can go on home,” she instructed, to which, Lazuli hummed in acknowledgement.

The blonde assistant was definitely not the friendliest or liveliest person, but she got the job done to a ridiculously efficient degree. If Bulma didn’t know better, she’d think Lazuli was a robot.

Her door swung open, and Bulma raised her head to greet her visitor, only for her voice to lodge painfully in her throat.

On the surface, the man was absolutely nondescript. He was rather short, pale, with narrow eyes and a bald head with a large purplish birthmark on his temple. He wore a pristine white outfit, and he was smiling politely at her as entered her office, a pleasant greeting on his lips.

However, something about his manner, his _aura_ , if she could even say that, made her uneasy, but she stubbornly quashed the uncomfortable feelings aside as she smiled back, indicating the chairs before her desk so he and his assistant could sit and be comfortable as they discussed their business proposal.

The assistant was tall, with long greenish hair and a very handsome face. Bulma smiled at him as well, finding it strange that she was so uneasy around such an attractive man. She’d usually be more comfortable with an attractive visitor, but right now…

She felt for Vegeta’s amulet through her blouse…

“ _Don’t be silly, Bulma. It’s just a business meeting. You’re being paranoid,_ ” she scolded herself as she mustered up a professional smile, leaning back on her chair as she regarded her guests.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am Bulma Briefs, it is a pleasure to meet you,” she said, extending a hand to each of them as they sat.

“The pleasure is all ours, Ms. Bulma. My, but do you look stunning! The magazines do you no justice,” the shorter man said. “My name is Frost. And this,” he gestured to his companion, “is my assistant, Mr. Zarbon.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bulma,” Zarbon said, extending a small box filled with chocolates to her. “We have brought you some pastries, hopefully so we can come upon a sweet deal.”

“Oh, thank you, you really shouldn’t have,” she smiled, placing the box before her on the desk. “Now, I received a fantastic proposal from Chiller Corp. about a possible refrigeration deal with some capsule tech. Mind enlightening me on the exact details, gentlemen?”

They spoke about the deal for more than half an hour, and Bulma’s feeling of unease slipped away as she became engrossed in what was rapidly appearing to be a very lucrative deal proposal.

She was about to make a suggestion to one proposed clause, when her stomach suddenly released a very loud, extremely embarrassing growl.

“Oh my God,” she laughed, face flaring red. “I am so sorry, I haven’t eaten all day, my body is just trying to remind me!”

Zarbon was quick to raise a hand in placation. “No worries, ma’am, we understand!” he said with a chuckle. He motioned to the box of sweets on her desk. “Perhaps you should have some of these pastries.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly…”

“Please, Ms. Bulma, we insist. They are absolutely divine, and we feel terrible for taking so long here that you can’t take your meal!” Frost said, nudging the box closer to her.

She looked at the food, and her stomach grumbled at her once again.

“Ah, what the heck, right? I _am_ famished,” she said, opening the box and taking a round, chocolate-coated piece.

She popped the pastry into her mouth, groaning gratefully at her first mouthful of food all day. “Gosh, you were right, this is delicious! Where did you buy these, I might have to place a bulk order.”

“We got it far from here, Ms. Bulma,” Frost said, and Bulma couldn’t help but feel like something about his tone had suddenly seemed strangely different.

Zarbon himself, was grinning, and Bulma, suspicious but with no idea why, simply went back to discussing their deal.

It was not until a few minutes later, when she felt an abrupt spell of nausea take over her, that she paused, placing a hand against her forehead as the dizziness persisted.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Bulma?” Frost asked when she cut herself off, mid-sentence.

“No, I…” she stopped as she realized that her words seemed slurred. “I am just not feeling well. I guess I am actually more tired than I thought,” she tried to excuse herself.

She tried to push herself up onto her feet, but her arms gave way as she tried to brace herself on the table so she can stand.

“Lazu…” she began, thinking of calling her assistant, before she remembered that she had asked the blonde woman to go home.

“Perhaps you should take a seat, Ms. Bulma,” Zarbon said, going around to her side of the table to help her sit comfortably once again.

“Thank you. I’m sorry… I’m not sure what is happening…” she began, panicking slightly when she looked at the tall man, only to realize that she was beginning to see double.

“Don’t worry about it Ms. Bulma, we understand,” Frost said, coming up to stand beside Zarbon.

Bulma stared at him confusedly, when she saw his smile widen into a smirk, and she swore that she saw small fangs peeking out from under his lips.

“After all,” Frost began, his voice now lower, more of a hiss than actual words, “we know fully well how Namekian root affects Earthlings. In just a few more moments, you will lose consciousness. Isn’t that right, Zarbon?”

Bulma’s blood froze in her veins.

“ _They drugged me_?!” she thought, as she tried to lift her hand so she can clutch at the amulet at her chest.

Her limbs refused to move.

Frost watched her, before his eyes narrowed in on her chest.

The amulet had peeked out through the buttons of her blouse, and Frost smirked menacingly as he reached forward, slipping his fingers through the gap so he could hold the amulet between his fingers.

“What do you know? Look, Zarbon, the Prince gave her a keepsake,” Frost snickered, before he viciously pulled at the trinket, snapping the chain as he pocketed the amulet.

Zarbon smirked. “This may turn out to be even more interesting than we thought,” he said. “Perhaps we should begin cloaking before we take her with us.”

“I believe you are right,” Frost said, and Bulma, with progressively heavier eyes, watched as he raised his arms, making small beams of energy surround them in a circular shield.

She tried to keep her eyes open, to speak, to scream, but nothing in her body worked right, and she realized with dread that there was nothing more she could do to fight off the drowsiness that the drug had her under.

“Stop fighting it, Ms. Bulma. Don’t you worry, we will still be here when you wake up,” Zarbon crooned, and his aggravating face was the last thing she saw before the all-encompassing darkness of unconsciousness took over.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_

 


	5. Bonded Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta will rest at nothing to get Bulma back... Revelations are made, hearts are laid bare, and the two conflicted souls surrender to each other amidst their fears for their unknown future.  
> Entry for the @tpthvegebulmayhem, Week 3.  
> Prompt/Genre: Someone’s been eating my porridge / Mystery.  
> Chapter Warnings: Profane language; Crime and graphic violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 2 of 3, of my Week 3 entry. There are several lines added on here that explain some things that were not fully addressed in my original submission. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Vegeta appeared into Bulma’s room as he so often did nearly every evening.

He would usually spend his entire day training, either alone or with his men, but on this particular day, he had done nothing but wander around the mountains of Earth, longing for his home planet, but knowing that his moping was futile because there was no force in the universe that could give him back all that he had lost.

The only thing left for him was revenge… and oh, how he wanted to wrap his fingers around Frieza’s neck as he wrung the life from him, torturously slowly, like the lizard demon had done to the Saiyans that he had kept as playthings all those years ago.

How Vegeta wished to trap Frieza in a hell of his own creation, as the despicable lizard had once done to him, leaving him no choice but to either waste away in despair, or to exist with nothing but the bitter thirst for cold blood coursing through his every vein.

But more than anything, Vegeta wished that he were once again a fully-living man, not a being with a conditional existence that blossomed and faded at a _benevolent_ god’s whims, one who needed another being’s vitality so he could be restored to his full and former glory.

He would give anything, to be a real mortal once again.

To be a man that _needed_ sustenance, who could sweat and bleed, who could touch another without inhibitions…

To be a man who could care for and protect Bulma.

He shook his head angrily at his wayward thoughts, the futility of it all making his rage rise into an all consuming flame deep inside his heart.

There was no hope for him.

He knew of his choices. There were only two possible outcomes…

And it was becoming increasingly clear, with every day that passed, that he may be fated for the worst possible end.

He looked around his surroundings, noting the clean sheets and straightened up knick knacks, and he realized in a flash that Bulma had yet to come home.

Her housekeepers kept her room clean, and she systematically decimated the neatness within five minutes of her arrival.

He grinned as he thought of how intelligent and yet utterly unorganized she was, how she was the very epitome of a woman raised in privilege, and how she, like him, had experienced what it was like to have a very swift fall from grace, even though her own fall was temporary.

He was glad that he was able to keep her from falling too hard into devastation, at least.

He went downstairs, listening hard lest anyone be in the same vicinity, as he craved to have some of the rich, starchy soup-like concoction that she had made for him the previous morning.

He peered into the kitchen, before he opened the large refrigeration device, and set about looking for the “Tupperware” that she had placed into the very back, so he could come and take some at any time.

He grinned as he spotted the plastic box, then sat down on one of the chairs in the dining area, spoon in hand as he opened the box.

It was half-empty.

“ ** _Someone’s been eating my porridge_** ,” he grumbled as he still dug in, regardless. “Fucking Earthlings.”

He turned an ear up as he heard Bulma’s family conversing in the background, ready to spring away at the slightest sign of anyone approaching.

He stilled, spoon halfway to his mouth, when he registered exactly what it was that they were discussing.

“…Yes officer,” a woman’s voice, which he recognized as Bulma’s mother. “She was last seen by her secretary at four in the afternoon. She was still at work.”

“We cannot place an official complaint until she has been missing for twenty four hours, Mrs. Briefs. Are you sure she didn’t just go out and forget to take her phone?”

“No, officer, Bulma isn’t like that,” Dr. Briefs answered. “She wouldn’t leave her phone unattended then skip off somewhere. You know that our family had huge legal issues, and we are of course, afraid that our daughter would still be targeted.”

Vegeta straightened, raising two fingers to his head so he can detect Bulma and retrieve her…

Only to stare into the distance, stunned, as he realized that he _could not sense her._

Her ki was gone…

Her ki was miniscule to begin with, and it was hard to pinpoint her at all times due to how insignificant her ki number was, but he had always been able to easily find her, even in the midst of chaos.

It was as if she was…

He bristled in fury.

It almost felt as if she was _dead._

Panic began to set in as he tried to zero in on the amulet he gave her, only to harshly slam into a psychic wall, the likes of which he could clearly remember, in spite of not having encountered it for three decades…

_Frieza._

With a flare of power, he raised his fingers again, materializing into the middle of Uranai’s house with an anxious shout, “Men! To your Prince, now!”

Less than a second later, all three remaining Saiyans stood before him, baffled at the furious energy surrounding him.

“My Lord, what-” Raditz started, but Vegeta cursed, cutting him off.

“They have taken her. They have taken my Moon.”

The remaining Saiyans stared at him in shock, digesting the words and the ramifications of such a problem.

“We need to find her. That woman who tried to kill Bulma had said that the name was Cold. Nappa, did you find anything?” he asked, the flames of his power rising, singeing the floor beneath his feet as he tried desperately to control his rage.

They will pay. Whoever they are, they will _pay._

“Cold is an alias, my Prince. But I stand by my previous lead. I believe that they are hiding behind a medium enterprise being led by a man named Frost Chiller. I have reason to believe that this man is actually Frieza.”

“Then I shall go there now. I shall destroy his empire once and for all!” Vegeta growled.

“Prince, no!” Raditz said. “You know as well as we do that the time isn’t right yet. It is why we have been waiting to attack…”

“I can wait no longer. They have Bulma,” Vegeta hissed, about to raise his fingers to his forehead once again.

All were stunned when two strong hands held back Vegeta’s, pushing them down to keep him from leaving.

Kakarot.

“You will unhand me this _instant,_ Kakarot,” Vegeta spat, but Kakarot shook his head, defiant.

“No. Your majesty, I know why we need to look after Bulma now, but please... She is such a nice girl. If we go in now, not only will she die, but we will _all_ die. We need a better plan.”

Vegeta wrenched his arm away from Kakarot, eyes blazing with pure hatred, but he tried to calm himself, knowing that the boy was right.

“You have an hour to come up with a plan, Kakarot. Otherwise, I go in and rescue her, by myself.”

8-8-8-8-8

When Bulma woke up, a part of her really wished that she hadn’t.

Her head pounded mercilessly, and she felt her insides rioting, bile rising to her throat as the nausea overwhelmed her, making her see her surroundings behind a deep haze of red.

She was flat on her back, and she tried hard to move, but a heavy feeling in her limbs kept her rooted to the hard ground.

It was so utterly disorienting, and it took her a few moments to remember exactly why she was in this predicament.

“Those fucking bastards poisoned me,” she hissed in fury, even as her throat protested the activity.

“ _I’m gonna kill them. Then I’m gonna make Vegeta kill them again,_ ” she thought mutinously.

A soft creaking sounded off to her right, and Bulma mustered up all of her strength to turn her head in that direction.

Two large men guarded a small door, and Bulma realized as she looked around that she was in a bare room, laying on a concrete floor, being watched by two, strange-looking men.

“Hey Burter, look, she’s awake,” one of the men said, lifting his arms up so he could fix the ponytail that he had his long hair up into.

“Oh hey, you’re right Jeice,” answered the other, a larger man with a bald head and a very flat nose.

“Hey there, princess. You hungry?” the one named Jeice jeered, before both burst into laughter.

“We got some chocolate for you here, if you want some,” smirked Burter.

Bulma tried to part her lips. “Fu-fuck you,” she rasped, making the men howl in laughter.

“Later, princess. For now, we keep you here,” said Jeice, a note of malice in his eyes. “Lord Frieza needs you alive.”

“But as soon as he kills the Prince, we can do what we want with her, right?”

She felt a shard of worry strike her at those words.

She coughed, before she defiantly muttered, “You can’t kill the Prince. He’ll kill you all.”

Burter just laughed again. “He can try, but he won’t be able to even _touch_ Lord Frieza without the Blue and Red Moons.”

“Blue… and Red?”

Bulma had heard many times of the _Blue_ Moon. But Red?

Jeice smirked cruelly. “Why doll, didn’t he tell ya?”

Her face must have showed her confusion, because both men started chuckling, before Jeice spoke again.

“It appears to me, that they have left the Blue Moon in the dark, Burter,” he grinned, before he turned to her. “Lemme tell you a little bit about your Prince, Ms. Briefs.”

Bulma tried to hide the anticipation in her face.

Could it be, that she would get her answers from these two men?

“Listen. Now, we know that _you_ are the Blue Moon,” he said, and Bulma frowned.

Mai had mentioned that “Cold”, her boss, had called Bulma “The Blue Moon”.

Bulma knew that a Blue Moon was either the second full moon within a calendar month, or a more literal one, when the moon appears blue due to scattered particles in the air.

“You know the Saiyans, their powers follow moon cycles. I think they call you the Blue Moon because you have been tainted by the Prince. His life force flows within you, that’s why he keeps you handy. They also call you the Blue Moon because they need to keep you around when the full Red Moon appears,” Jeice said.

She frowned as Burter chimed in. “Yeah, and the Red Moon is when the Saiyans are strongest. The Red Moon will be coming soon, and those monkeys think we’re stupid, that we don’t know that they are biding their time until they attack during the eclipse.”

“We’re not scared of them though. Lord Frieza already stuck your Prince into a ball and annihilated their kind decades ago. He isn’t about to lose to them now, no matter _what_ color the moon turns.”

Bulma’s eyes widened as the two men dissolved into highly amused laughter.

This… _Frieza…_ was the man who had betrayed Vegeta and his men all those years ago.

As for Vegeta not claiming his price…

It made so much sense.

Vegeta had been saying that he was waiting for the perfect time… that he wasn’t ready to claim his price…

He was truly waiting for a particular phase of the moon.

She thought back on the day that Vegeta had shown up in her bedroom, translucent and weak, and she remembered that it had been an extraordinarily dark night…

A dark night… when even the moon seemed to be in hiding…

The new moon.

He was weak, because the moon was hidden. 

She also began to understand why she had been singled out as the one who could free him from his imprisonment, why the spirits on the Spirit Bridge did not immediately sense her, and why Nappa had said that they thought they felt _Vegeta_ when _she_ arrived at the island house.

Uranai had told her, that she and the Prince shared a spirit link.

It truly made a lot more sense, now.

She was somehow a part of Vegeta… or had a part of Vegeta in her.

Was this the reason why she was so drawn to him?

Jeice’s laughter pulled her from her reverie.

“Did you also know that the reason why your family was targeted by the fund scammers was so they could take you out before you freed the Prince?”

“Yeah, too bad that idiot, Lewis, admitted everything. It would have been easier to make her disappear if she was penniless.”

“Oh, look at her Burter! She looks shocked. Reckon the Saiyans never told her?”

“Probably not, Jeice!”

Bulma tuned them out as she concentrated on her limbs, trying to see if they would work, and she realized with annoyance that her arms still refused to move.

She kept on trying to lift her fingers, but the entire time, in the safety of her mind, she was calling out to only one person…

“ _Vegeta… help me!_ ”

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta shot up, eyes wide as he heard a voice in his head.

 _“Bulma!”_  he thought, looking around, recognizing her voice immediately.

He would know her voice, even in the midst of a billion other voices.

The waxing gibbous moon guided their way to her, a thick patch of silver light that gave him hope as they travelled in a manner that he deemed too slow, but was also the safest way to avoid detection.

He turned to his left, finding Kakarot driving the hovercraft that was carrying them to Bulma. One other hovercraft, ironically produced by none other than Capsule Corp, was a few meters ahead of them, carrying Nappa and Raditz.

Nappa had apparently spent the past thirty years on Earth making an absolute _killing_ in the body-building industry, and owned a small army of Capsule Corp vehicles.

“Is something wrong, Prince Vegeta?” Kakarot asked from his side.

The younger man’s brows were knitted in worry, and Vegeta ran a hand down his face, exasperation filling him at the thought of their plan.

“No… But I thought I heard Bulma,” he admitted, looking off into the distance as Kakarot drove the small vehicle.

“Oh,” Kakarot said. “You know, sometimes, it’s kinda like that with me and my wife, Chichi.”

Vegeta raised a brow questioningly.

“When I started feeling drawn to her, sometimes I would hear her in my head, so I’d go to her, and I’d find out that she was thinking of me. Raditz and I realized then, that the Saiyan bonding is possible with Earthlings,” Kakarot said offhandedly.

The Prince narrowed his eyes. “I am not feeling _drawn_ to _anyone_ -”

“Whatever you say, highness.”

Kakarot’s infuriating nonchalant response nearly made him blast the fool into oblivion.

He was suffering through this slow vehicle because Kakarot had logically said that if they went in to try to rescue Bulma in their full, powerful forms, Frieza would sense them from miles away and would undoubtedly try to harm Bulma.

However, if they snuck in this way, ki suppressed way down, they could sneak her out, so they could face Frieza at their own terms on a later date.

They were to stay hidden, and Raditz would use his acquired technological methods to gain access into the compound where they believed Bulma was being hidden.

Uranai had bribed the spirits with many valuable things, to get as much information as they could, and their spirit sources had led them to a small villa on the edge of West City.

The only problem that remained, was that stealth had never been Vegeta’s forte.

He was having a difficult time suppressing his ki, what with his aggravation and the fact that his current form did not exactly have all of the control of his original body.

 But he needed to try harder, to get to Bulma.

8-8-8-8-8

Sweat was dripping all over Bulma’s body as she pushed herself beyond all of her known limits, just to move a single finger.

The drug they had used on her was powerful, and Bulma worried that this long period of physical sedation may have lasting effects.

She would have to study it, when she gets back to her lab.

“Focus, Bulma,” she chided herself as her mind began to wander, and she tried again, focusing on moving her finger…

Her right pinky finger twitched.

“ _Yes!_ ” she thought.

However, her celebration was cut short when she heard a powerful explosion coming from somewhere very close by.

Her eyes widened, and she turned her gaze to her two guards, who had now stood at attention as another blast came from within the building.

“Fuck! Is it the Saiyans?” Jeice asked, as Burter looked up in panic.

“Who the fuck else, Jeice?” Burter responded, reaching up to open the door.

“The fuck are you doing?” Jeice screeched, slapping Burter’s hand away from the knob.

“I wanna check outside!”

Bulma tuned them out once again as she concentrated harder on moving the rest of her limbs.

Vegeta was here.

The men continued arguing, but were cut off when a cellphone started ringing.

“Mr. Frieza?” Jeice said, and Bulma stilled, listening.

Frieza was the name of the man who Vegeta needed to fight. 

“Just leave her here? Alone? Alive?”

She felt confusion fill her at that. Were they being instructed to just leave her?

“Yes sir,” he spoke into the phone again, before he turned a questioning eye at Bulma.

“You know,” he said to her still prone form. “I really don’t understand everything, but you’re a lucky little bitch. The boss just told us to leave you here for your Prince to find.”

Burter approached, pulling on Jeice’s arm. “Let’s go Jeice.”

Bulma watched as the two men began to levitate, before they swiftly flew to the door, then sped out of her sight.

Apparently, they were aliens, too.

Several more explosions sounded, coming closer and closer, and Bulma took a deep breath.

“Vegeta!” she screamed, knowing that the Prince was close… he was going to save her.

In the next moment, she felt his unmistakable aura fill the room, and tears of relief filled her eyes as she heard him shout.

“Bulma!” he cried, rushing to her, powering down from his golden haired form, kneeling beside her as he checked her body for injuries. “Are you alright?”

She looked at him, a watery smile on her lips, as she nodded. “I’m fine, but I can’t move… they drugged me with some sort of root…”

“Namekian root,” he hissed gathering her into his arms.

Bulma curled into his chest as much as her paralyzed limbs would allow her, sighing as the masculine scent of him washed over her, comforted her…

She stiffened, remembering the words of the two men from earlier.

She had a part of Vegeta inside her. She needed to understand what it was before she let herself succumb to the rapidly growing feelings in her heart, the fondness that she felt for him more and more keenly each day.

She felt her stomach drop, and she quickly realized that he had used his teleporting powers to take them out of the building.

“Men!” he called loudly, and Bulma felt his ki flare around her for a moment, before the three Saiyan men from earlier were again before them, all sooty and looking like they had just escaped from hell.

“We have her, let us go, now,” Vegeta commanded, before he shot up into the air with her in his arms.

It was a strange sensation, flying without a plane, and she was both fascinated and terrified by the feel of the wind in her hair as she flew through the sky, safely tucked into the arms of the alien prince.

She realized that he was flying rather slowly, apparently making a leeway for her as the extreme speeds that she knew that he was capable of would undoubtedly injure her.

She noticed that the three other Saiyans were nearby, also flying at the same leisurely pace.

“Where are we going?” she asked, nuzzling her face into his chest as she spoke.

“To the island,” he answered, eyes trained straight ahead.

A brilliant idea popped into her head, and she frowned as determination filled her.

“No, don’t,” she said, and Vegeta turned to her, brows raised in question.

She cleared her throat as she continued. “Take me to Capsule Corp.”

“Bulma, your family cannot see me, you know this,” he answered.

“Please,” she said. “I will just tell them that you saved me, but we need to deal with this somehow… Also, I can house all of you until the next Red Moon.”

His eyes widened. “You know of the Red Moon?”

“I also know more about the Blue Moon. Vegeta, we need to talk,” she whispered. “Take me to Capsule Corp, and I will set you and the other three up with decent living spaces and a training ground until the full Red Moon shows up in a few days. Let me help you.”

“You have already suffered enough,” he growled.

“But so have you,” she soothed, and she felt his shoulders sag slightly as she realized that her words had gotten through to him. “Let’s go to Capsule Corp.”

Vegeta clutched her tighter against him as he mulled it over. “I suppose… if we were closer to you, we could watch over you more easily. Now that Frieza has begun to actively target you, there is no telling what else he plans to do.”

He turned his head to the side, and yelled out to his men, “Saiyans! We are going to Capsule Corp.”

They made the rest of the trip in silence, until all five of them finally touched down onto the front lawn of the main house.

Vegeta approached the door, still holding Bulma, and Bulma heard her mother’s panicked voice from within the house, shrieking at someone that her daughter still had not made it home.

Bulma did not have her keys with her, so she pressed the doorbell, waiting for someone to open the door for them.

Panchy herself came to the door, staring in shock at Bulma and the large men surrounding her, before she started screaming for Dr. Briefs.

As soon as they were inside, Vegeta sat Bulma down on a chair, and she calmly explained to her parents that yes, she had been kidnapped, and yes, it was probably orchestrated by the men who tried to frame her father, and no, they did not need to call the police.

Bulma also explained the four Saiyans as being soldiers who were about to be deployed to war.

Panchy cried buckets, hugging each and every single one of the large men as she thanked them for saving her daughter.

“Let me see again, you are Vegeta, you are Goku, you are Nappa, and you are Raditz,” Panchy clarified, pointing to each man as she spoke their respective names.

“You are all so big and scary looking!” she said in delight, marveling at the enormous men and their ridiculously ripped bodies. “But you are all angels for saving our Bulma.”

“I agree,” Dr. Briefs piped in. “Is there anything we can do to repay you?”

Bulma sat up straighter at that. “Dad, could we let them use Capsule 4 for a while? They need to do some strength training for their deployment in a few days, and Capsule 4 would be great for them.”

Dr. Briefs frowned. “Do you think they can handle it?”

“Do they look like they can’t? Also, Capsule 4 has four bedrooms, they could sleep there until they need to leave.”

Dr. Briefs immediately agreed, immediately asking someone to prepare Capsule 4 while Panchy flew to the kitchen to prepare food for their guests.

Bulma stayed behind with the Saiyans, smiling gratefully as Vegeta held his hands up to her, a warm glow emitting from his fingers, and she realized that he was pulling the drug out of her system when she began to feel her fingers and toes once again.

“Capsule 4 is an experimental venture. We call it the gravity chamber,” Bulma explained. “It simulates up to fifty times the Earth’s gravity, and we intend to sell it to the military for their training. It is surrounded by the toughest polymer and metals on Earth, and I am pretty sure that you could use your hand explosions or something in there without being detected by anyone.”

Vegeta stared in shock at her. “You have this sort of technology?”

Bulma nodded. “The prototype, which is Capsule 4, was finished last week. It was one of the projects that were put on hold when the government seized Capsule Corp from us, and my father and I just finalized the programming a few days ago. You guys can test it out. However, even if the gravity function does not hold up, you still have a training room and a place to rest.”

Panchy slinked into the living room then, stopping their discussion. “Oh boys! There is food in the kitchen!”

All men turned questioning, hopeful looks at Vegeta.

The Prince sighed. “Go and eat. You are dismissed.”

All three were gone in a second.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma sighed deeply as she emerged from her bathroom, rubbing a soft towel onto her head to dry her hair.

After the three Saiyans ate, and Vegeta had fully healed Bulma from the effects of the Namekian root, the Capsule Corp guards escorted all four Saiyans to Capsule 4, so they could get settled in for what remained of the night, and could begin training the following morning.

Dr. Briefs had volunteered to assist the Saiyans in Capsule 4 the following day, so Bulma could stay in her room, rest, and heal from her harrowing experience.

Panchy had still been insisting on calling the police, but Bulma had given her the excuse that Vegeta and the rest had used illegal means to save her, and she did not want the police to get involved because of this.

Now, as Bulma prepared for bed, she thought back on the events of the exhausting day, realizing that there was so much that she still wanted to discuss with Vegeta, but she was also so exhausted that she could barely keep her eyes open as she dressed in her sleeping clothes.

A mere second after she had dressed, she felt the familiar crackle of fire and energy in the air, and she turned just in time to see Vegeta materialize into her room.

His dark hair was a mess upon his head, and he looked uneasy, fidgety even.

Bulma realized that he felt guilty for all that had happened to her on that day.

“Hey, Vegeta?” she called.

He looked up at her, eyes soft, while his body spoke an entirely different language, defensively crossing his arms across his chest.

“Thank you, for saving me,” she said.

“Tch,” he spat, looking away from her, an expression of rage and disgust in his face. “Do not thank me, woman. You are in this situation because of me. If anything, you should be cursing the ground I walk upon.”

“I don’t blame you for anything, Vegeta,” she said, walking up to him.

Slowly, she lifted her hand, placing it upon his chest, watching his face as a vast array of emotions flitted chaotically across his eyes.

“You should,” he muttered.

“But I don’t,” she whispered. “However… I learned a few things today… and I really want to talk to you about them. Could you… could you help me understand?”

She swallowed, before she continued. “Those men told me about the Blue Moon, and the Red Moon. They said… they said I had a part of your life force in me. I… want to know…”

“Bulma,” he rasped, and she started slightly when he reached up to touch her hand on his chest, squeezing her fingers even as he refused to meet her eyes. “I will answer your questions. But can we… can we wait until tomorrow?”

Bulma looked curiously at him, trying in vain to get him to look at her.

“You… you were injured just a few hours ago. I want you to rest. Tomorrow night, I will come to you again, and I will answer your questions. I suppose it is high time that I did,” he said gently, pulling his hand away from her.

She smiled, and she almost sighed in relief when he finally glanced at her, and he too gave her a tiny grin as their eyes met.

“I will see you tomorrow then, Vegeta,” she agreed.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma watched the Saiyans train in Capsule 4 through a monitor that she and her father had installed prior. The feed was linked directly to her tablet, and she scrolled all day through all the cameras to better be able to see all angles.

All she could say, was that these men were _incredible._

They took to the increased gravity like fish to water, and their actions were impossible for any Earthling man to ever hope to follow.

Dr. Briefs immediately figured out that the men were not ordinary soldiers, but didn’t question Bulma too much, since he was just happy that she had these men help her out of a tight spot the previous night.

Bulma stayed glued to the screen, analyzing the four alien warriors.

Nappa threw the most powerful punches, shaking the very foundations of the building, while Raditz displayed amazing stamina, outlasting Nappa in all their endurance trainings.

Goku had impeccable aim, and his ki blasts - as she had finally learned that they were called – were so powerful that they nearly blew holes through the reinforced walls, and it took both Nappa and Raditz working in tandem to hold his ki blasts back.

And then… there was Vegeta.

His movements were by far the most fluid and refined, and a single charged attack from him could blow all three Saiyans away, both literally and figuratively.

He was smart with his movements, his hits calculated and yet devastating. His body was poetry in motion, and Bulma felt her throat go dry when he removed his armor, revealing the amazing lines of his chest and abdomen.

The one thing that she found strange about him though, was that in spite of all the exertions, Vegeta, never once, broke a single bead of sweat.

She could hear him screaming at Goku, that he could “ascend” as well, as he mercilessly beat the other Saiyan into the metal floor of the domed training hall.

It all looked so brutal, and yet, watching them helped Bulma understand what was truly at stake.

In two days, the sun will set and give way to a bright night with a full blood moon.

That night, is what the Saiyans have been waiting for, all these months.

That night will be the time when their powers will be at an all time high, and they will attempt to gain their revenge against their common enemy, the being who destroyed their home world.

And Bulma hoped that, when the time arrives, they will be ready.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma waited anxiously for Vegeta to appear in her room that night.

She was brimming with questions once again, and she was desperate, so unbelievably desperate, to know the answers.

Shortly before midnight, Vegeta appeared.

He was wearing his usual blue suit, but he had foregone his white gloves, boots and breastplate. For the first time, Bulma realized that the attire was not actually a full body suit, but a two-piece outfit composed of a tight long-sleeved shirt and form-fitting pants.

Bulma herself had worn a night dress, a soft red silk that hugged her body gently, and she sat primly on her knees in the center of her bed as Vegeta arrived, motioning for him to take a seat beside her.

He sank onto the bed, his hands grasping the soft cotton of her sheets, and he seemed lost in thought as he slowly ran his hands over the rich material.

“Back in Vegeta-sei, I too slept on soft sheets,” he murmured, eyes distant even while he stared down at her pristine white blankets. “We had servants, cooks, and courtesans. I was to be King, and I was treated as such from the day I was born.”

Bulma kept silent as he straightened, crossing his arms across his chest as usual, and Bulma marveled at the hard lines and scars that littered his large hands.

“Frieza is the purger who destroyed my planet. We had been a part of his network for centuries, but the Saiyans have had enough, and we were fighting for our freedom. We were not winning, but we were not losing either. However, on the day when it all ended, he had lured me onto a different planet, where I, Nappa, Raditz and Kakarot had foolishly followed him. As soon as the four of us were gone, he used his full powers to… to…”

He swallowed hard, and Bulma placed a small hand on his shoulder, lending him her strength, encouraging him to speak.

“I was devastated. Mad with grief and fury. I used my instant transmission to reach him, and I found him near death, having used all his energy on destroying my world. I gathered my strength for a final attack, but I did not realize that he had tricked me once again… his minion, a sorcerer named Babidi, had been waiting to ambush me. Babidi used a spell to push my entirety into a tiny ball, where I was to exist in the middle realm, neither dead nor alive.”

He was shaking now, and Bulma came forward, moving to sit beside him and she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as he carried on.

“I used my gathered energy to kill Babidi, but it was too late, the spell had already taken effect. Before I was sucked in, I pushed out my life force into a blast of ki, thinking I could use it to tie me to the world of the living so I could find a way out, but it failed.”

He clenched his fists. “My life force… it flew off into the galaxy, searching for a soul that it could join with. A… a compatible soul. When I arrived in the netherworld, I made a deal with the King of Hell that I could come back to the world of living to seek my revenge, but I had to be freed by the being who held a part of my life force.”

He turned to her, then, without warning, gathered her into his arms, burying his face into her hair as he shuddered, and Bulma felt tears fill her eyes as she felt his pain through his tight embrace, through the deep and heavy breaths he was releasing.

“I made a miscalculation. We believed at first that my life force would join with the soul of a man similar to me, a warrior, or a prince. I never imagined that it would find a soul that would be a complement to mine, instead.”

Bulma took in a shaky breath as the implications of his words sank in.

“Vegeta… are you trying to say…”

“We call you the Blue Moon, Bulma, because the fragments of my life force merged with you. I attain full power during the full moon, and you are the second moon that I need in order to become whole again. I… I never would have thought to foresee that my spirit would look not for its twin… but for its mate.”

She pulled back with a sharp gasp, staring in shock at Vegeta.

“Its… mate?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

He pulled away from her as well, looking blankly at a spot on her wall, trying to avoid her eyes, as he nodded. “I felt it, the moment you touched the orb that held me. I made you kiss me that night because… Because I wanted to feel it _more.”_

Bulma’s heart pounded madly in her ears, as she finally began to put a name to all the strange feelings that stirred within her heart whenever Vegeta was near.

 “This is why Frieza had tried to have you discredited, and killed. He must have sensed my life force in you, but knew that he couldn’t touch you because you were in such a high profile position. He is scouting Earth, and I suppose that he couldn’t afford to destroy it yet. Knowing Frieza, he most likely has plans to take over this planet the way he did countless others. It is also how Uranai found you, and the reason why the Spirit Bridge did not immediately try to absorb you, because it sensed me in you. I had been in the middle realm long enough that I had siphoned some of their powers, and they thought me to be one of them, by now.”

Her lips trembled, and she reached up, bravely letting her fingers caress his powerful jaw.

She caught his eyes as she turned his head to face her, and gathering her will she asked him…

“Vegeta… this soul-merging. Are you saying… that we are, in effect, soulmates?”

He tried to look away as a furious blush stole across his cheeks, but Bulma held fast, holding his face in her palms, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Vegeta, please! I need to know. Did… did your spirit bind us by accident and cause us to feel drawn to each other, or did it seek me out because it was _meant_ to be with me _?”_

“…The latter, Bulma.”

Her eyes widened, and she raised one of her hands to her trembling lips, holding back a sob.

His soul had traveled through literal _galaxies_ to find hers…

She could hold back no longer.

With a soft but reckless cry, she flung herself at him, and as he caught her, she held her arms out, reaching around him…

And she wrapped her arms around his neck, using his surprise as leverage so she could slant her mouth passionately against his.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	6. Rapture and Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta give in to their desires, before the Saiyans square off against their most fearsome foe. As the battle rages on, will strength alone be enough to help them survive the final fight, and will the final price be worth the struggle?  
> Entry for the @tpthvegebulmayhem, Week 3.  
> Requirements: Climax / Fallout / Death  
> Chapter Warnings: Smut / Explicit sexual content; Profane language; Graphic violence; Major character death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins with smut, so if you are uncomfortable with graphic sexual content, please scroll ahead to the midway point of the chapter. This is Part 3 of 3, for my Week 3 entry.  
> I hope you like it! :)

_She could hold back no longer._

_With a soft but reckless cry, she flung herself at him, and as he caught her, she held her arms out, reaching around him…_

_And she wrapped her arms around his neck, using his surprise as leverage so she could slant her mouth passionately against his._

8-8-8-8-8

He groaned loudly as their lips met, his hands flexing against her waist as he fought an internal battle, fighting back his desire to hold her with his will to stay single-mindedly focused on defeating Frieza.

But Bulma persisted, pressing her body against his own, letting him feel her softness as she ran her hands down his taut back, clutching greedily at the muscles of his arms as her mouth forcefully made him comprehend that he was not alone in this all-consuming need.

She moaned against him, her hands going up to hold the angled slant of his jaw, palming at his neck.

She cheered internally when she finally felt his arms go around her, possessively caging her in his unbelievable strength as he used his large hands to press on the small of her back, pulling her flush against his hard body as he began to aggressively lead their kiss.

He took over completely, dominating her mouth as his hands desperately clawed at her night dress, and she heard more than felt the flimsy material disintegrate in his hands as he suddenly pivoted, turning them so that she was suddenly laying flat against the soft cushions of her bed.

She couldn’t stop touching him, and she kept her eyes tightly shut against the sensations as his sinful mouth left her lips to burn a passionate trail across her jaw, sucking madly at the skin of her throat before making his way further down to lap trails of fire across her chest.

She moaned, and she finally opened her eyes when she felt him pause his movements. Her eyes were soft as they landed on him, shaking with need above her, eyes roving her nudity as his hands reverently hovered a hair’s breadth above her skin.

“Touch me, Vegeta,” she whispered, as her hands began to softly tug at his skin-tight suit, trying to get him to remove his clothing so she could feast her eyes on the beautiful body underneath.

He groaned as he descended, his hands cupping her round breasts as she watched him magically dissolve his clothing, and in an instant, he lay naked above her while he eagerly kneaded her breasts as he went back to kissing her lips.

Bulma let her eyes rove over his form, lustfully taking in every detail of his contoured chest, his exquisitely-defined arms, and the alluring curve of his hips, leading down to his firm bottom and thickly corded thighs.

She hissed in pleasure as she felt him pinch her nipples, and she used her own hands to grasp as much of his luscious caramel skin as she could reach.

He left soft kisses along her cheeks, before he rose up, and she watched with eyes narrowed in desire as he lowered his lips to her breast, his tongue slipping out to flick at her hardened nipple.

Bulma gasped, and she threaded her fingers through the surprisingly soft strands of his hair as he suckled on her breasts, leaving a hollow ache in her lower belly as her arousal began to mount.

She could feel herself growing wet, and she rubbed her legs together to sooth her rising desires.

Vegeta caught on quickly, and with a single smooth movement, he slinked down her body to grasp her panties, melting the thin scrap into nothingness so she was now completely bare beneath him.

She keened when she felt him slip a finger into her core, and Vegeta smirked back at her as she gasped in pleasure, a lascivious twinkle in his eyes as he pressed harder into her weeping center.

“Does this feel good, Bulma?” he asked, and she could do nothing but nod as she closed her eyes, relishing in the exquisite feel of his thick digits exploring her depths.

“Oh… Vegeta!” she exclaimed after a particularly hard push, and she could feel her hips rising to meet his hand as he began to thrust his finger faster and more urgently within her.

Her hands grasped at the silken sheets beneath her as she moaned loudly, her body losing control as her passion climbed higher…

She felt him crawl down, and without warning, she felt something, deliciously firm and rough, smooth across her nether lips.

Bulma screamed as he licked her, hips bucking madly as Vegeta tasted her with unbridled enthusiasm, thrusting his tongue into her as his fingers moved to press and encircle her clit.

“Vegeta! Don’t stop… Oh! That feels so good!” she cried, gazing down the length of her body to watch his head move ardently between her thighs.

His eyes were closed, and she melted in desire as she realized that he was relishing in her taste as much as her body was luxuriating in his touch.

The physical pleasure, coupled with the feelings he stirred within her chest, all came together, and soon enough, Bulma was wailing in anticipation of a powerful release.

She can feel it, and she arched her back, reaching for it, feeling it within her grasp…

Vegeta pinched her clit hard, as his tongue dove in deep…

“ _Vegeta_!” Bulma screamed as she shattered, bucking wildly against his hand and mouth as he kept licking her, lapping up her wetness, using her moisture to stoke his own fires as he rubbed his hardness with one hand.

She peered down at him as she recovered, and saw his hard body ready and waiting for her, his magnificent cock weeping for the feel of her body as she too yearned to have him inside her.

“Vegeta, please,” she whimpered, spreading her legs in invitation, her arms reaching for him, needing to touch him, to become one with him.

He rose to meet her, his gorgeous face hovering intimately close to hers, and Bulma was unable to resist, reaching out to pull him down so she could kiss that wonderful mouth again.

She felt him rubbing his hardness between her nether lips, and Bulma moved her hips, enticing him to enter her, to let her _feel_ him, in the most intimate of ways.

His hand reached up to caress her cheek, and her lust gave way to a more tender emotion as she stared deep into his eyes, dark eyes full of unnamed passions and yet unspoken words.

“Bulma,” he whispered, the words blowing softly against her lips, as she felt him begin to enter her.

He was so large, and Bulma gasped as he began to move deeper within her, filling her in a most delectable way.

When Vegeta was fully inside her, he slumped against her, and Bulma stroked his back tenderly as he panted against her chest, unmoving save for the heaves that wracked his frame as he struggled to contain himself against the pleasure of their joining.

She understood his agony, as the feel of him within her was the most exquisite of all sensations, and she felt tears rim her eyes as the indescribable pleasure brought a sob to her chest.

He was in her, pulsing softly inside her body, and she had never, ever, felt this all-encompassing sense of fullness and completion before.

It was too much, and yet she didn’t think she could ever get enough.

She felt him lift his hips, then thrust within her.

“Ah!” she cried, her hands going around him to hold him, one hand clutching at the smooth firmness of his buttocks.

“Vegeta!” she keened as she felt him begin to move, and he raised himself up onto his elbows so he could gaze at her face while he pushed in and out of her body.

She tried to keep her eyes open, so she too could watch the various emotions playing across his dark eyes, but the pleasure was too much, and she fought a losing battle as her eyes clamped closed, needing the darkness so she can focus on the remarkable sensations that he poured into her very soul.

“Bulma,” he groaned as he began to thrust faster, and Bulma wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles together above his tailbone.

“Vegetaaaa… oh!” she groaned, and he gave her an answering growl as his movements became more frantic, less controlled, but so much more amazing.

They moved against each other, writhing helplessly together as their passions rose higher and higher, until neither could take much more…

“Oh… my Prince… I want to- oh!” she cried, a particularly hard thrust cutting off her thoughts and words.

“Bulma… cum for me,” he whispered, before his lips found hers again, and he panted harshly into her mouth as his breathing became more stuttered, and sweat began to drip down his brow.

“Cum with me,” she keened, her nails raking across his back as she shuddered in delight under his touch.

Their emotions flew high, and their raptures soared fast, and in a few more hard thrusts, both were lost to the sensations and passion of their souls, screaming each other’s names like desperate benedictions from the bottom of their hearts.

They were both breathing hard, and Bulma smiled shakily as she felt the evidence of his passion sliding between her thighs.

She placed a hand on his back, loving the feel of his sweat in her palms…

“ _Sweat?_ ”

“Vegeta,” she gasped out.

He lifted his head, a lazy grin on his lips.

She lifted her hand to his face. “You’re sweating!”

His eyes widened, and he grabbed her hand, staring at the moisture in disbelief.

“How… how is this possible?” he asked.

“When I was watching you in Capsule 4, I noticed that you don’t sweat at all, and-”

“Bulma!” he exclaimed. “After I was released from the ball, I took on this incomplete form. In this form, I don’t bleed and I don’t sweat… at all.”

“Then why…”

“It seems to me, that being with you like this, literally completes me,” he murmured, letting go of her hand to stroke her cheek.

She smiled at his words, and she tangled her hands in his hair once again, pulling him down so she could place a soft kiss on his lips.

“I guess, in a way, we both complete each other,” she smiled.

He silently nuzzled her, and after a few more peaceful moments of bliss, both fell asleep, still entwined in each other’s arms.

8-8-8-8-8

He did not want to get up.

Laying with Bulma, having her in his arms, was unquestionably the most healing experience of his entire existence. He knew that the feel of her against his body was something that he would never forget, not even as he strode, either brokenly or proudly, into the afterlife.

He tightened his hold on her, squeezing her gently, before he regretfully extricated himself from her, rising to begin a new day.

They had coupled twice in the previous night, and every touch, every sensation, was more intense than the ones that came before, and as he brought her to her peak on their final joining, the scent of her skin drove him so wild with desire that he pulled back, biting savagely into her pillow so he would not mar her perfect skin.

He would never, could never, harm her.

And that fact, coupled with the everlasting memory of her touch, spelled his certain doom.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma couldn’t quite believe that the night of the Red Moon was coming upon them.

Only two nights before, she had lain for the first time with Vegeta, and his gentle touches spoke of a man who needed and wanted more than just physical completion.

She could feel it in his every caress, in every desperate touch of his lips onto her skin.

And she understood now, why she had longed so badly to have him stay with her, in spite of the consequences that his existence in her life may inevitably lead to.

She loved him.

And if their souls were correct, then it was inevitable, and she had always been meant to love him.

She was not able to tell him this as they pleasured each other beneath the light of the gradually brightening moon over the past two nights, but now, as the sun began to set, she found her lips trembling with the desire to let him know that her heart belonged to him.

The Red Moon will rise in less than an hour.

While other people around the world got ready with their cameras and telescopes to watch the Blood Moon, Bulma stood by the window with her heart in her throat, watching Vegeta dress in his usual armor as he prepared for a battle that may or may not be his last.

She almost felt physically ill as she thought of his oncoming fight, and she furiously held her tears back as he affixed his breastplate, adjusting it carefully before he donned his gold-tipped boots.

He too, was stalling, it seemed.

“Vegeta…” she started. “I’m… I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he said, fixing his eyes on the nearby horizon.

She pressed a hand to her mouth to stop the sob that she felt was about to spill out. “Promise you’ll come back to me?”

Vegeta finally turned to her, regarding her out of the side of his eye. “I will come back to you, Bulma.”

She smiled, a soft, watery smile that did nothing to hide her concern. She stood, walking slowly towards him, wrapping him in a loose embrace from behind. “There is still so much I want to learn about you, still so much I want you to learn about me. I… I need to hold you again after this fight is done, do you hear me?”

His hand squeezed her hands around her, a tight, comforting contact, but Bulma’s worries did not ease.

He turned to face her, and Bulma brought her arms down to wrap them around his waist. Vegeta too, wrapped an arm around her while he brought his other hand up to his forehead, and after the now-familiar disorienting sensation, Bulma found herself standing in the middle of Uranai’s small hut, surrounded by the three other Saiyans, Uranai herself, and old man Kame Roshi, Uranai’s brother and Goku’s martial arts instructor from several years ago. 

Uranai’s large crystal ball was set up in the middle of the hut, where she, Roshi and Bulma were about to watch the fight, and Bulma felt a distinct roil of dread crawl through her as she thought of how morbidly fascinating it would be to watch the Saiyans fight for their honor, and their very lives.

She gave Vegeta’s waist a final squeeze before she pulled away, and she stared longingly at him as he turned away from her, giving his final instructions to his men before they gathered together, each placing a hand on the Prince’s arm.

Vegeta refused to acknowledge her as he lifted his hand to perform the instant transmission, and though Bulma desperately wanted to make him _look_ at her one more time, her voice got stuck in her throat, and her soul wept along with her eyes the moment they disappeared, heading to the biggest battle of their lives.

She watched with Uranai as the Saiyans stormed into Frieza’s lair, a large, dark hangar in the middle of an abandoned, forgotten city. The two men who had abducted her, along with several other warriors on the enemy’s side, surrounded the Saiyans, and in spite of the unbelievable strength that the four had displayed, it was clear that they were having a hard time fending off the attacks of hundreds of other fighters.

Their massive numbers showed Bulma that Vegeta’s suspicions had been right: Frieza and his men have already begun to mobilize on Earth, and it would only have been a matter of time before Frieza attempted to take over their planet, as well.

Vegeta used his ki blasts, and she heard him scream “ _Galick Gun”_ as he blasted away at several men all at once.

Goku used the old Kame style, two hands lifted to expel tremendous energy into fighters that did not expect this magnitude of power from the lanky warrior.

Nappa and Raditz were brutal, bloodily hacking off heads and limbs, using hands and teeth to rip lethal wounds into increasingly non-human looking warriors.

But most harrowing of all to Bulma, was the realization that with each blow, each parry, every ki blast dispelled, the Saiyans were beginning to tire out.

They were tremendously outnumbered, and the hangar they were fighting in had long since been demolished, a particularly powerful blast from Goku leaving nothing more than a crater where the humongous structure used to be.

Vegeta leveled an entire mountain to get to Jeice, and Bulma saw that with each injury, Jeice and Burter began to look less and less human, until their forms were completely alien, terrifying monsters.

But the most terrifying vision to ever grace Bulma’s eyes, was when Frost and Zarbon came out, and she found that the men who kidnapped her were actually _the_ Frieza, and his powerful right-hand man.

Frost stood unmoving, watching with near amusement as his men began to slowly die out, and when only the Saiyans and a few elite members of his squad remained…

Frost began to glow an angry, malicious purple, and his human skin began to melt, a horrifying vision ripped straight from all of Bulma’s worst nightmares.

Beside him, Zarbon began to transform, his skin turning an inhuman pea-green, before his head began to elongate, and before Bulma even understood what had happened, Zarbon had turned into a reptilian monster who was twice the size of Nappa.

Frost’s skin had turned white, a thick, reptilian tail spouting from his backside as his clothes ripped clear off his body, and Bulma gasped when she heard Vegeta’s furious voice scream…

“Frieza!!!”

Zarbon stood before Frieza, fending off most of Vegeta’s infuriated blows, and Bulma shook as he saw that Vegeta had clearly lost his cool, detached façade, attacking with unrivaled rage, his face contorted into a look of unparalleled grief and wrath.

The other three Saiyans were thrown back, and Goku, who had clearly grown more powerful than the two larger men, flew towards Vegeta to help him in his fight against Zarbon.

Vegeta got knocked back by Zarbon’s tail lashing out, and he began to heavily favor his right arm as Bulma noticed that he now sustained a huge gash, even though the wound refused to bleed.

Bulma curled her hands into fists, watching as Goku finally managed to divert Zarbon’s attention to him, giving Vegeta an opening to confront Frieza.

Frieza was powerful, and at first, it seemed to Bulma that Vegeta’s attacks weren’t even making a dent.

However, as the fight wore on, and the two became more engrossed in trying to destroy each other, she saw that Vegeta’s attacks kept getting stronger the more he got wounded, and Frieza was weakening exponentially with each successful hit from the Prince.

Vegeta was _winning._

He pushed Frieza back, each blow stronger than the last, and his hair glowed a darker golden hue as he became more intent, more focused…

Just when he had Frieza cornered, Frieza snuck in a small but potent blow, catching Vegeta off guard…

“No!” Bulma screamed, nearly bowling over Uranai’s crystal ball as she lunged, panic written in every line of her body.

She watched in horror as Vegeta stood, shocked and furious, as the powerful beam struck him right through his chest, piercing his armor… going through his heart.

“Vegeta! No!” Bulma screamed, and she swore she felt physical pain as she watched her Prince struggle to his feet, hand hovering over the large hole where a part of his heart is supposed to be.

Vegeta persisted, in spite of the pain…

And Bulma realized that he was forging forward, pushing through, on willpower alone.

The ensuing scuffle went by in a blur, and Bulma watched as Raditz and Nappa defeated the last of Frieza’s minions, and Goku vanquished Zarbon with a power that made his hair turn as gold as Vegeta’s.

And Vegeta, with a final burst of energy, pinned down Frieza, pummeled him to  the ground, turning his very flesh and bones into goo with the force of his punches…

Before he rose up, brought his hands together, and with a mighty roar, screamed, “ _Final Flash_!”

As dawn broke, Frieza was no more…

And Vegeta, spent from the battle, closed his eyes, his hair turning darker than the midnight sky, and fell unconscious, plummeting to the ground where Goku came up to catch him in his arms.

Nappa and Raditz ran up to the two other Saiyans, and Goku brought two fingers up to his forehead, taking them all back to Kame House.

“Vegeta!” Bulma screamed as soon as they arrived, and she rushed madly to Vegeta, uncaringly pushing Goku aside as she fought to hold Vegeta in her arms.

“Vegeta! Please! Wake up!” she begged, and she felt tears streaming down her face as she begged him, with all her heart, to open his eyes…

“You promised me! Damn you! Wake up!” she screamed, her tears falling onto his face, and she noticed that he was full of small abrasions that began to bleed with every second that she held him close.

He coughed, and Bulma almost fainted in relief as he looked back at her, eyes unfocused.

“Bulma,” he whispered, and one of his hands rose up, his fingers touching her cheeks, weakly trying to wipe away her tears.

The corners of his lips lifted up into a weak, teasing smirk. “I promised, I’d come back to you.”

“Not like this!” she cried, not finding any humor in the situation. “Heal yourself, what are you waiting for?! You did it for my mother…”

“He can’t heal himself, Bulma,” Uranai interjected softly. “And he cannot bring someone back from the otherworld. In this form, he _is_ from the otherworld.”

“He needs to live, Uranai!” Bulma shouted, words slurred by her grief. “I am supposed to be linked to him, right? Is there something I can do? Tell me!”

Nappa, who had remained silent, spoke up. “He needs to claim his price from you, Blue Moon.”

“Then claim it now! Vegeta, take it now!” Bulma cried, holding him gently, watching in horror as the large, gaping wound in his chest began to bleed…

His dark crimson blood stained her skin, and she cried harder as she saw the amount of blood that he was rapidly losing.

Vegeta simply stared at her, his hand still slowly stroking her face.

“Vegeta please!” she begged, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his blood-stained lips.

He was shaking, and she felt his lips tremble beneath hers, his soft, shallow breaths hinting at the pain that he stubbornly refused to show.

Uranai spoke again. “Bulma… he’s not going to claim his price. If he had intended to claim it, he would have done so before fighting Frieza, as claiming it would have restored him to full power.”

“What is the price, Vegeta? I will give it to you, whatever it is…”

“Bulma…” he spoke, and Bulma had to lean down to catch his words, as his voice was painfully soft. “I’m not going to claim it.”

“You have to, Vegeta-”

“The price was your life, for mine,” he rasped, and Bulma stilled, shocked.

“The Gods who helped him come back to this realm had a condition… he needed the Blue Moon to give up his or her life for him, willingly,” Uranai answered gravely. “Only then will he have been restored to full form.”

Bulma realized… this was the initial reason for the wishes. For the exchange… So that she would agree to give up her life for his.

“But I ca-can’t do that to you… I c-can’t, Bulma,” Vegeta rasped, and she saw that his eyes had begun to glaze over, his lips helplessly twisting into a cringe of pain. “It was either you or me… and I can’t… kill you.”

“This is why Frieza let Bulma go, isn’t it?” Goku whispered, his voice choked by his own grief. “He realized that their bond had grown too deep… That Prince Vegeta can’t kill Bulma.”

Bulma shook her head defiantly. “Vegeta, do it! You just won! You have avenged your people! You can’t die now!” Bulma tried again. “You-”

“I have no regrets,” he said, his hand falling limply to his side, even as he tried to keep his unfocused eyes on her.

Bulma stilled as she saw that he was beginning to turn translucent… just like the time he visited her during the new moon.

“Uranai!” she screamed, tightening her hold on him as her panic rose while he began to fade. “What is happening?!”

The old woman bowed her head. “He… he’s dying, Bulma. And because his body is temporary… it will simply go back into the spirit world. He… he will disappear.”

“No!” Bulma cried, burying her face into his chest as her tears blinded her.

She raised her head, pressing her lips to his once again, her kiss a desperate attempt to tether him to her, to keep him with her.

She can’t lose him. She just _can’t._

“Vegeta… No…” she wept. “I need you!”

He simply smiled, a serene grin that lit up his fading eyes. “Stay safe. My precious Blue Moon…”

She watched as the light in his eyes dulled, as his breaths slowed to nearly nothing.

With a last, painful-sounding gasp, he whispered, “My Bulma…”

And as he finally closed his eyes… he vanished.

Bulma stared at her empty arms… Disbelieving, or rather, refusing to believe…

Vegeta… was gone.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	7. The Undying Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta’s gone, and Bulma is finding it impossible to cope with his death. In the midst of her sorrow, she finds hope when she begins to have strange dreams about him, and she realizes that there just might be a way to bring him back.
> 
> Entry for the @tpthvegebulmayhem, Week 4 (Part 1 of 4).
> 
> Prompt: The Glass Slipper
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Profane language; Triggers: Mentions of depression and suicide; Torture; Slight sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part 1 of 4, for my Week 4 entry. I hope you like it!

In her thirty years of existence, Bulma had, on several occasions, experienced what it was like to be sad.

She had gone through breakups, and she had lost friends. She had even, at one point, lost literally everything, and has had close friends and family members pass away.

Loss and death were not new to her.

However, the feelings of hopelessness, her conviction that things would never get better, the complete loss of her will to even get up every morning… those were new.

She had usually dealt with her sadness and frustrations by burying herself in her work or studies, by going out with friends or by taking short vacations.

She had tried so hard to do the same things this time around, but she just _couldn’t._

She could not keep her mind on her work, making stupid mistakes because of her wandering thoughts that made her lose her concentration.

She had thrown an epic tantrum when she failed to solve a simple equation that she previously could have done with only one eye half open and both hands tied behind her back.

She had filed for an indefinite leave of absence from work, after that frankly embarrassing meltdown.

Her parents were worried, confused as to why she had suddenly become so despondent and angry.

She didn’t care.

She did not want to see anyone, did not want to talk to anybody.

Every step she took made her shake with agony.

Every bite of food felt like sand on her tongue.

She was smart enough to recognize the signs...

She had never before truly realized that there was a profound difference between being simply _miserable_ , and being _depressed_.

She needed to be strong enough to fight it…

But she did not want to.

Vegeta’s death had hit her hard, like nothing she had ever experienced before.

She loathed herself, for being useless, for being unable to save him, for ultimately not being able to do anything to keep him alive.

She was so utterly lost, so unspeakably dejected, and all she wanted to do was lock herself up in her room all day and sleep.

Yet all she saw, every time she closed her eyes, were gruesome images of his last moments… the ki beam that struck his heart, his shaky final breaths, the look of pride and acceptance in his eyes right before he faded from her arms.

All these horrible memories fill the backs of her eyelids, yet she preferred sleep to wakefulness, because in slumber, she found some relief.

Perhaps, if she slept, she could dream of him. Maybe she would have a vision of him, see him as he was in the afterlife.

Oh, how she wanted to join him.

But she could not, because he had asked her to stay safe.

“ _Stay safe. My precious Blue Moon…_ ”

She could not, should not, kill herself, because she could not bear to disrespect his memory, his hard work and sacrifice, by failing him at this.

“ _My Bulma…_ ”

She felt the tears sting her eyes, and she tried and failed to hold them back.

It had been three weeks.

She still could not get his voice out of her head.

She could still feel his hands on her body, his kisses upon her lips.

“ _My Bulma…_ ”

She could still feel how cold his skin had felt as he began to fade into nothingness, how his lips had trembled beneath hers as he fought to keep his pain to himself, even as he wasted away.

He was gone.

Her Vegeta was gone.

And to her, it truly felt as if a part of her soul had died with him, as well.

Maybe, her soul really had been ripped apart.

After all, he was her soulmate. It made perfect sense for her very spirit to cry out and scream at his demise.

It wasn’t fair.

How _dare_ the world just ignorantly go on, when Vegeta was no longer in it.

At the moment, Bulma was staring numbly out her large bedroom windows and into the distance, her eyes hurting from the weak rays of sunlight that filtered in.

She was hunched in on herself in bed, her hair a matted disarray while her white shirt hung loosely around her frame.

Vegeta had hugged her, while she wore that shirt.

He had lain his head on her pillow as he wrapped his arms around her, an arrogant smirk on his face as he told her of how he was going to melt that shirt off her if she didn’t immediately take it off.

The pillow he had laid his head on, was the same one he had placed under her hips, using it so he can tilt her up as he thrust into her more deeply. It was the one he had slept on after their last moments of passion, one night before he fought Frieza.

She had her arms wrapped around that pillow then, refusing to part with it in spite of the stains from her endless tears.

It was all she had left of him.

She had lost his amulet when she got kidnapped, and she never even managed to take a fucking picture with him.

A stained pillow case was all she had left.

It was so utterly unfair.

A soft knock came on her door, pulling her slightly from her lonely thoughts, and she looked on morosely as the knob turned.

Her mother’s small blond head peeked in, her normally jovial eyes brimming with concern while her small mouth was turned down in a sad frown.

“Bulma, baby? May I come in?”

Bulma nodded, and Panchy walked in slowly, feet hesitantly padding across the floor.

She sat down on the edge of the large bed, while Bulma squinted at her, waiting for her to speak.

Panchy took a deep breath, before she resolutely turned to Bulma.

“Baby, you know I love you, right?” she said softly, reaching forward to stroke Bulma’s thin hand that was clutching tightly at her pillow.

Bulma nodded.

Panchy stared at her, and Bulma watched helplessly as small tears began leaking out of Panchy’s eyes.

“You’re my little girl. And I love you. So, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” the blond said, scooting closer to Bulma.

She started speaking again. “That morning, when those three men brought you here… you were unconscious and so pale.”

Bulma didn’t remember all the things that had happened after Vegeta had faded from her arms, but she did remember her screams that seemed to go on for hours, until darkness finally overtook her… and the next thing she knew, she was back at home.  

“When I asked them where the fourth man was,” Panchy continued, “they didn’t say anything. And you… you never spoke to me either, Bulma.”

Panchy began sobbing as she looked at Bulma, watched her pale blue eyes look back at her blankly. “I want to help you, Bulma. Like you helped me when I was sick. I can feel… I can feel that your heart is sick too, but I don’t know why. Please baby, let me help you.”

Bulma drew her brows together, not even realizing that the tears had started flowing from her eyes, as well.

“Mom,” she said softly. “No one… no one can help me. It’s over.”

“No! Don’t say that, Bulma!” Panchy exclaimed, lunging at her and pulling her into her arms.

Panchy began to weep, soft, feminine sobs that broke Bulma’s heart just a little bit more, and before she knew it, she had clung to her mother, bawling desperately into her chest as she heard her own voice begin to cry out.

“He’s gone mom! He’s gone! Vegeta’s gone!” Bulma kept wailing, pounding the mattress with her fists as the very words made her body ache physically.

“Oh Bulma, do you mean he left, or-”

“He’s dead!” Bulma screamed, and she realized then that it was the very first time that she had dared say the words out loud.

She had never had the courage to acknowledge his loss out loud, in a fool’s hope that if she didn’t say it, maybe it could stop being true...

“He’s dead! And I – I couldn’t do anything, mom! I just sat there. He’s gone!” she cried, slumping into her mother, seeking comfort from her mother’s loving hold.

But Bulma was trying to fool herself. She knew that her mother’s calming touch would never be enough.

She could only ever find her peace from a thick pair of powerful arms that would never hold her, ever again.

“Oh baby, I’m – I’m so sorry!” Panchy whispered into her hair as she rained kisses on Bulma’s head.

Her mother spoke to her as she cried, and Bulma heard her mother trying desperately to hush her, to soften the flow of her tears.

“I knew… I knew there was something there… but I never realized that he meant so much to you! I wondered why a random team of soldiers had gone to rescue you when you got kidnapped,” Panchy said softly. “Oh Bulma, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

“I miss him, mom. I need him. I don’t know how I could go on,” she sobbed, as she felt her mother push her down, gently lowering her so that she was laying flat on her bed.

Panchy sniffed as she pulled blankets around her, tucking her in before she lay beside Bulma as well, hugging her tight as they cried together.

“Bulma, I am sure that it hurts. But you have to try to move on. He… he would have wanted you to be happy, don’t you think?”

She nodded, sniffling loudly. “He… he gave his life for me. He refused to save himself because he wanted me to… to stay safe.”

Bulma peered up at her mother. “He… he called me, _my Bulma._ Do you… do you think he loved me, mom? Because I love him... I love him so much.”

Panchy burst into tears once again, pulling Bulma tight, laying her head close to her chest like she used to do when Bulma had been little, and upset over little things.

“Yes baby. I’m sure he did. It is impossible not to love you, my sweet little girl.”

Bulma sobbed against her mother until she was exhausted, and Panchy just patiently held her, offering her silent support as she soothed her motherly hands across Bulma’s back.

It took a long time, but Bulma finally felt the stirrings of sleep begin to wash over her, and before she knew it, she was lost in slumber, away from the aches of the waking world, and into the sweet nothingness of the darkness of unconsciousness.

Yet… it was not darkness that greeted Bulma as she succumbed to sleep.

8-8-8-8-8

_She could still feel the dampness of her sweat as it dried slowly on her body._

_She snuggled closer to Vegeta, laying her head close to his hard chest. She knew that the abnormal heat of his body should have been uncomfortable, but to her, it was like being in the gentle clouds of heaven, where nothing could harm her, and nothing could hurt her. It was just the two of them, nestled in each other’s arms, luxuriating in the warmth of their hearts._

_A small feather fell onto her nose, cutting off her tender musings.  She tried to flick it off with her breaths, blowing out her mouth so that the air would push it off her face._

_Vegeta had ripped one of her pillows apart while in the throes of passion. She absolutely did not mind._

_She felt his chuckle as it rumbled across his chest, before she heard the soft snickers leave his lips._

_She watched him lift a hand, and he quickly plucked the offending feather from her before he lowered his head to drop a small kiss on the tip of her nose._

_“I am sorry for the pillow,” he said with a totally non-apologetic smirk. “I can fix it.”_

_“Nah, it’s alright. Leave it for now,” she grinned back. She reached a hand up to trace the contours of his chest with the tips of her fingers, peeking up at him through her lashes. “I rather like the reminder that I was just_ so good _in bed that you had to rip something up. It’s so… feral.”_

_She laughed as she watched him blush at her teasing._

_She expected him to get back at her with an arrogant rebuttal, but the hand that he placed on her cheek, along with the soft look that entered his normally-stern eyes, threw her for a loop._

_“I will admit this much, Bulma,” he whispered, as if a part of him was hesitant to say the words. “Being with you tonight was… different.”_

_“Different in a good way?” she asked, breathless at his solemn confession._

_He nodded. “I have never… It has never been this way before. I nearly lost control.”_

_“Maybe it has just been too long?” she asked, hoping that it wasn’t for that reason._

_It had been so incredible for her, as well._

_He shook his head, and she nearly sighed in relief._

_“No, it is not that… you are my most incredible experience,” he admitted._

_She flushed happily, beaming brightly up at him. “That’s great Vegeta, because… it was amazing for me, too.”_

_He smiled back.”Don’t let it get to your head, woman.”_

_She laughed, huffing jokingly as she answered. “Excuse me? You’re the one with the huge head!”_

_“Oh, is that how it is going to be?” he growled, a playful smirk on his face as he turned, pouncing on her, hands crawling up and down her sides, making her squirm before her laughter began to ring around her bedroom._

_“No! No tickling!” she yelled, trying in vain to push away from his hands._

_He started laughing as well, tickling her sides more vigorously. “I got you now, and I am not letting go!”_

8-8-8-8-8

She opened her eyes slowly as she woke, already feeling the tears welling-up behind her lids.

She smiled bitterly as she recalled the last vestiges of her dream, her memory of happier times with Vegeta.

“But you did let go, Vegeta. You let go…”

8-8-8-8-8

The next morning was too bright, too cheerful, and Bulma almost felt as if she wanted to vomit as she tried and failed to get up from her bed.

It was really pointless, getting up. Why should she even bother?

She was contemplating going back to sleep, when a bright flash of light suddenly appeared inside her bedroom, and she gaped as a male form with spiky, golden hair materialized before her.

A dozen flashbacks went through her mind as she screamed, tumbling carelessly from her bed as she bolted without thought towards the man who had appeared with his back to her, wearing a blue tank top and loose black pants.

“Vegeta!” she screamed, heart pounding through her ribcage as she desperately tried to move towards him…

Was he truly back?

The man turned, and the hopeful spark within her chest died as quickly as it had been lit, when she realized that the person standing before her was definitely not her dead lover.

It was Goku.

Indescribable rage filled her as he turned to look at her.

“What are you doing here?!” she roared, making him visibly recoil.

How dare he get her hopes up?

How dare he remind her of what she had lost?

“Bulma, I’m sorry,” Goku said, raising his hands up in a gesture of placation. “I just wanted to check up on you again. I didn’t think you would be awake.”

Bulma’s rage continued to simmer. “What do you mean, _again?”_

Goku winced. “I have been checking on you once every three days. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She finally untangled herself from her sheets, rising up to stand and glaring lividly at Goku.

“Look at me! Do I look alright to you, Goku?” she yelled.

She knew her anger was unwarranted, but she was unable to stem the venom that flowed through her.

Goku appeared to deflate. “No, you don’t. You don’t look alright at all. You look awful.”

She glared. “Oh well, _thank you,_ Goku! I-”

“You look sick,” he said, brows furrowing. “You are very thin. You look like you aren’t eating.”

Bulma was taken aback as she noted Goku’s hands clenching, and she watched his face slowly morph from a look of concern to one of irritation.

“You ain’t taking care of yourself, are ya?” he accused, and Bulma cringed under the accusation in his eyes. “Bulma, why? You have to treat yourself better. You-”

“What’s the point?” she asked bitterly. “Why should I?! There’s nothing left for me here. He’s gone, so why should I even-”

“He gave his life for you!” Goku said loudly, shocking her into silence.

She gaped at him, watching his aura flare angrily around him.

“Our Prince, our _leader,_ who we waited thirty Earth years for, gave up on a chance to reestablish the Saiyan race because he couldn’t bear to let you die. He gave up on his _legacy_ ,” Goku hissed, “because you meant more to him than me, Raditz and Nappa combined, more than the thirty years of waiting and plotting to rise and lead us again. And all you are doing in exchange for his sacrifice is letting yourself _waste away_. The least you can do is to respect his death by _surviving_.”

He turned away from her, angrily looking out her window, and she was struck by the visible similarities between Vegeta and his fellow Saiyan.

That straight and powerful stance, the strong arms and narrowed, determined eyes... Vegeta and Goku looked nothing alike, yet, standing here now, Bulma could fully appreciate the fact that these men truly were not ordinary humans, as their presence resonated with something unmistakably powerful, and she was awestruck by the display.

Goku sighed, powering down so his hair turned back to its usual dark, spiky look. He turned back to her, his face now softer and slightly contrite. “I am sorry for shouting, Bulma. But Vegeta was our Prince. Our ruler, even before his father died. The first Saiyan to ascend to Super Saiyan in a thousand ages. We all looked up to him.”

He walked towards her, taking her limp hands in his, a brotherly gesture that had Bulma near-tears as she sensed his sadness through his somber gaze.

“He… he was my idol,” Goku said, swallowing audibly. “He had been telling me that I had what it took to ascend, and I never would’a tried so hard if it weren’t for him always telling me that I could. It… it hurts to know that he is really gone.”

“It does. It really does hurt, Goku. I… I’m sorry if I’m like this… I just… I can’t handle it,” she whispered, and she felt him steering her to sit on her bed, before he himself crouched before her, rocking back on his haunches as he watched her.

“You have to try Bulma. He wouldn’t wanna see you like this. And I’m here because I want you to be safe, like he asked. So I’m gonna try to look after you, alright?” he said. “I see why Vegeta liked you. You’re a strong girl. If I remember right, back on the mountain those years ago, you were the toughest in your group. You have to be that tough girl, again.”

She smiled sadly at him. “I… I am going to try. I am going to really try, Goku.”

He smiled back. “You should.”

8-8-8-8-8

The visit from Goku shook Bulma, and she decided then that she had to at least make an effort to try to get things to go back to normal.

She knew it would be impossible, but she should at least try to attain a semblance of normalcy, if not for her, then for the people who loved her and were worried for her.

Also… for Vegeta.

Goku had been right. Vegeta wanted her to be safe, he wanted her to live her life, and she was going to try, for him.

She tried to fight back the urge to stay in bed all day. She took baths with her phone right beside her, so she can call her mother to fetch her from the bathroom if the shudders started up again, or if she felt the urge to either not get out at all or to just drown herself in the bathtub.

She asked Goku for his number – which he had to go back home for a second to retrieve from his wife, Chichi – so she can call him whenever she was feeling down.

It apparently helped, to have somebody around who could understand the pain of her loss.

Bulma opened up to Lazuli, her assistant, and the blond surprised Bulma by sharing that she, apparently, had gone through a dark period as well when her parents passed away, leaving her and her twin brother as homeless orphans.

She tried to offer some help, supplying Bulma with books that had helped her cope with her own loss, and though Bulma knew that the self-help books would not really offer her much peace of mind, she took them, grateful for the kinship that she now shared more keenly with Lazuli.

Bulma tried to look back at her memories with Vegeta more fondly, and as the weeks passed, she found herself slowly becoming more able to smile as she remembered his words and arrogant smiles.

She could remember their small conversations, his nitpicking at her messy lab and office. She smiled as she sat in her office, chewing thoughtfully at some pineapple, remembering his face as he sniffed in disdain at how lazy humans were for slicing their fruit into bite-sized bits.

There was, however, one thing that helped keep her happier, that began after she cried her eyes out after coming clean to her mother… after she finally acknowledged out loud, that Vegeta was gone.

She had begun to dream of him.

The dreams were happy dreams, full of memories of their few days together, and sometimes of random encounters that she knew had never happened, and had regarded as simple figments of her imagination.

She thought of them more as alternate universe versions of a life with Vegeta.

She had once dreamed of them flying off to South City to fight villainous androids, where one of them looked uncannily like Lazuli.

She also once dreamed of watching him talking to a group of men who stood in neat lines before a large red mountain, and she realized that two of the men looked suspiciously like Raditz and Nappa.

Just that morning, she had woken up from a dream where they had met on a distant planet, where he had terrified her as they both competed in a search for what she had, in her dream, called _Dragon Balls,_ wish-granting orbs that resembled the enchanted ball that had brought Vegeta into her life.

She dreamed of him every night, and she knew that she was bordering now on an insane obsession, but she reasoned that, it was still better than not seeing him at all, and just letting herself die alone in her room.

At least, with the dreams, she could be with him.

At least, in her dreams, Vegeta was alive.

After she finished her snack, she shook herself free of her thoughts as she stood, moving into the large laboratory that was adjacent to her office.

She sorted through her things until she finally found her ongoing project, a power core for a deep space machine that was inspired by her dream about meeting Vegeta on a distant planet.

In the dream, she had reached the strange green planet using a sophisticated ship that could enter into a form of hyperdrive, bypassing Earth physics and running at speeds faster than the speed of light.

She was trying to figure out if it would, in reality, be possible to engineer such a vehicle.

Bulma had been reading up on the possibilities of deep space exploration and the power sources that could potentially take the people of Earth into farther corners of the universe, but the answer constantly evaded her.

She was about to turn her attention to another project when she remembered a discussion that she had with Vegeta , just a few days after she and her family had returned to Capsule Corp.

8-8-8-8-8

_“So this is what your family does for a living,” he remarked, looking around her lab, peeking through the various machines and smaller components that littered her workspace to look at her from behind her cluttered work-table._

_“Yep! We are engineers! Well, my father and I are. We are inventors; scientists, actually. And this is my home!” she crowed, gesturing grandly at the mess of parts before her._

_“And what, exactly, are you working on here?”_

_“Well,” she began, lifting an energy source from her table, showing him the glowing liquid inside the large fiberglass capsule. “I am trying to make a compound that could function as an alternate energy source so we don’t have to be so dependent on gasoline. I know that there are several other methods now, but this one,” she shook it, “could potentially be powerful enough to send us to the moon with only a liter of it needed.”_

_“Impressive,” he agreed, studying the mixture. “So it is a highly-concentrated energy source that could potentially power your vehicles into farther distances, with far less quantity.”_

_“Yes!” she said, beaming with pride._

_He frowned slightly. “Did you take into consideration though, how a compound like that could potentially drain other components of your ships? It would not be enough fluid to sustain the other functions that you would need for a habitable vehicle.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“It would cause a chain reaction of sorts within your ship,” he explained. “The other motors will be needing to work at an equivalently higher rate of efficiency for that compound to be able to sustain all of the functions.”_

_She chewed her thumb nail thoughtfully. “So you’re saying that if I use this energy source, I need to adjust all other functions on the ship.”_

_He nodded. “But I am sure you already knew that. What you could consider is this: is your planet’s current technology ready for a machine that could accurately utilize this compound?”_

_She looked at him, impressed. She had no idea that he even had an interest in mechanical processes and electronics. “You make a good point. However, are you saying that this experiment is not practical, then?”_

_“I believe it would be ambitious to use this experimental fluid on a large machine, such as a space ship,” he clarified. “Perhaps, you would do well to try testing it on a smaller gadget, to test how far the energy can go, so you can more easily make the necessary calculations as you proceed to larger undertakings.”_

_She smiled at him then. “Why Vegeta, that is brilliant! Any suggestions on what I could use it on?”_

_Vegeta smirked. “How about one of those phones that you use to communicate? The ones that you keep charging all the time? Or perhaps, something practical, like a blaster gun?”_

_Bulma stood from her chair, excited. “Vegeta, that’s a great idea!” she exclaimed, picking up the green capsule. “I’m going to start a different experiment right now!”_

_She moved around the table, and when she reached him, she leaned up, leaving a light kiss on his cheek._

_She immediately noticed the dark blush that stole over his cheeks, before he covered up his embarrassment with a scowl._

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma went to the back of her office, opening a small drawer hidden behind her filing cabinets.

She reached in, smiling when her hand met the small item that she had stashed in there, a confidential little experiment that she had been working on without the knowledge of her father, an undeclared idea that she had personally financed so she can test its viability.

She pulled it out, and her smile turned melancholy as she continued to look at it.

It was a blaster gun.

She had decided to make a prototype, as Vegeta suggested, and she had completed her first model only a few hours before she had been abducted by Frieza, and everything that she knew had gone to hell in a hand basket.

The blaster was small and sleek, made of transparent fiberglass and polished titanium. Due to some adjustments she had to make in the internal machinery, the blaster was unconventional, and did not look like a typical gun.

The handle curved slightly around her hand, and when placed flat on a table, **_the_** shape reminded her of a **_glass_** and metal **_slipper_**. She had wanted to show it to Vegeta, but in all the action, had completely forgotten, and she stared at it now with a mixture of sadness and longing, as she tried to imagine how he would have reacted to seeing that she had managed to turn his suggestion into an actual prototype.

He would have been so proud.

She slowly placed the blaster back into the hidden drawer, knowing that it was actually a rather dangerous trinket, as she had seen the damage it could inflict, first-hand. She had tested it out on some very thick metal sheets, and the powercore had aided the blasts so that the gun had easily melted through the tough metals, and she knew that with the energy held by the weapon – a mere medicine capsule-sized chamber of the fluid – the gun would not need to have its energy cartridge replaced for a very long time.

She turned back to her current experiment, intent on working on it now, to take her mind off the bitter taste that the happy memory with Vegeta had left in her mouth.

8-8-8-8-8

_She was in space. That much was clear._

_However, it felt strange, as she realized that she was enclosed in a single pod that was controlled by nothing but a very small keypad with unrecognizable square-shaped symbols._

The darkness surrounding her was thick, and she could feel a dull throbbing on the side of her left arm, an inconvenient sensation that had her wanting to rip off her own limb.

_Now, that right there, was an odd thought._

_She reached behind her, pulling out a thick roll of paper containing diagrams written in a foreign script, and she stared at the schematics as if she could understand the letterings._

_“Tch,” a very familiar voice said, the sound ringing clearly in her ears, as if the voice had come from her._

_“This makes no sense,” the same voice muttered, frustrated, and Bulma felt shock enter her as she finally placed the voice._

**_Vegeta_ ** _._

_She wanted to turn, to look for him. She wanted to see him, but her body refused to follow her, only reaching up, and apparently turning on a very dull light within the space pod._

_The light filled the pod, and she squinted, looking up at the thick glass window that was right in front of her._

_She nearly jumped when she saw Vegeta’s face reflected back at her._

_She looked down then, and she saw his very familiar hands clenching and unclenching in what she knew was his way of displaying annoyance._

_It was then that Bulma understood, that she was in Vegeta’s body._

_What a strange dream…_

_She watched his fingers reach forward, tapping on a few keys before him, before a small screen lit up, a low beeping sound filling the pod, before Nappa’s face showed up on the screen._

_A communication screen._

_Bulma noted that Nappa looked younger, maybe more than ten years younger than the one she met a few months ago._

_“Nappa,” Vegeta said. “How is the squad? Did you bring the boy with you?”_

_“The squad is fine, your highness,” Nappa responded. “As for the boy, Kakarot is within the larger ship with Raditz.”_

_Kakarot. That was Goku._

_“Good. That boy needs to be trained, Nappa. I can feel his power within him. Raw and unused. He could… he could be another Super Saiyan.”_

_Nappa looked shocked. “You believe so, my Prince?”_

_“Yes, I do. We need him to get stronger. He could be a powerful warrior, more so than Raditz and their father, Bardock, combined.”_

_“Raditz is a very strong fighter, your highness.”_

_“And Bardock, before his injury, was stronger. This boy is even stronger than that.”_

_Bulma listened to their exchange, realizing that this dream was about Vegeta’s time before he had been thrown into the ball._

_“We will need him,” Vegeta continued, “in our rebellion against Frieza. I shall train him, myself.”_

_“He is but a boy, my lord,” Nappa responded._

_“And I was even more of a boy when I had first been stolen by Frieza and forced to work for them, until my father retrieved me. Kakarot will be fine.”_

_Vegeta fidgeted then, bringing his right hand up to clutch at his left arm, and she felt him violently tug at the limb, the pain making stars flash behind her lids._

_“As you see fit, my Prince”, Nappa said, nodding his head in acknowledgment._

_“If I am right, and the boy does indeed ascend, then we will have two of us able to perform instant transmission. It would be a tremendous tactical advantage,” Vegeta said._

_“And I am certain that he will be delighted to be trained by you,” Nappa said. “Raditz told me that the boy idolizes you tremendously. That he has said that he wishes to be just like the Prince.”_

_Bulma felt Vegeta smirk at that. “As he should.”_

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma woke with a start, disoriented by the darkness.

As her eyes adjusted to the meager light, she realized that she was in her bedroom, lying down on her same, soft sheets, clutching her favorite pillow to her chest.

That had certainly been a strange dream.

She could still feel the throbbing in her left arm, the ache of an old injury that sometimes recurred and refused to fully heal.

“Wait a minute,” she muttered, as a very small memory surfaced.

She could distinctly remember Vegeta begin to use his right arm more and more as she watched him during his fight against Frieza.

His left arm could have had a recurring injury.

She bolted upright, unsettled.

That dream… did not feel like a dream, at all.

She immediately ran to her dresser, pulling her mobile phone out. Uncaring of the time, she scrolled down to the number of the one person she knew could help her understand what had happened.

The phone began to ring on the other end, and a few moments later, a groggy voice answered.

“Hello?” Goku greeted, voice thick with sleep.

“Goku! It’s Bulma.”

“Yeah, hi Bulma. It’s two in the mornin’,” he said.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I need help,” she said.

Goku’s voice was more alert as he answered. “Are you in trouble?”

“Not really, but-” she cut herself off when the familiar glow of the instant transmission appeared in her bedroom once again.

“What’s up?” Goku asked as soon as he materialized into her bedroom. He was wearing a loose shirt and boxer shorts, clearly coming directly from his bed.

“Goku, I am so sorry. I just wanted to ask you…” she said, hesitating before she continued. “When you were younger, did Vegeta train you, because he thought you could be Super Saiyan?”

“Well yeah,” he answered. “He asked Nappa and Raditz to bring me with them to the outer base one day, and the next, he showed up in the training arena to train me. I was shocked.”

She felt the blood drain from her face, as Goku tilted his head, regarding her more closely.

“He… Vegeta was taken hostage by Frieza, at one point, right?” she asked shakily.

Goku nodded. “He was with them for about seven Saiyan ages – fourteen Earth years – before King Vegeta started an uprising to retrieve him. It was during that battle that the Queen Papaya was killed, and Prince Vegeta turned Super Saiyan for the first time.”

Bulma felt her hands begin to shake as disbelief filled her.

She had been right… That was not a dream.

She had seen Vegeta’s _memories_.

But _how?_

Goku stared at her in concern. “Bulma, are you alright? Haven’t you been eating again, because you are a little pale.”

Bulma looked up at the tall Saiyan, a confused grin on her lips.

“I’m fine, Goku. More than fine. I think… I think I just dreamed of Vegeta’s memories.”

Goku’s eyes went wide. “What? How? That’s impossible, ain’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure that it’s supposed to be impossible,” she confirmed. “But I am sure. I saw Nappa, and I  heard them talking about you having the power to ascend.”

Goku looked baffled. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I need something from you now, Goku. I need you to talk to Uranai.”

8-8-8-8-8

A day after Bulma sent Goku off to Uranai, she began researching on the theories regarding sleep and memory transfers. As of then, it was nothing but a part of science fiction mythos, but Bulma was sure that she could find something that could help her understand just how it could have been possible for Vegeta’s memories to have manifested in her dreams.

She spent the entire afternoon reading up on various sci-fi novels and conspiracy theories, and the only thing she could come up with were a few readings about soul bonding and psychic connections, but most stories concerned subjects who were both still alive.

As the day gave way to night, Bulma was nowhere closer to finding the answer to her questions, and she went home, feeling rather dejected that her research had basically gone nowhere.

She contemplated calling Goku to ask how his trip to Uranai had gone, if his asking the old crone for her theories had been more successful than her own efforts, but she decided against it, thinking that she could just call him in the morning. It was a bit late, after all, and she didn’t want to bother his sleep twice in a row.

She went to bed then, hoping that she would dream once again of Vegeta, or that the answers to her questions would come to her in her sleep.

8-8-8-8-8

_It was scorching._

_Flames licked up every single inch of her skin, and she wanted to recoil from the agonizing heat of the perpetual fires that surrounded her._

_However, her feet remained pinned down, and she realized that she was being held against an iron-like beam, her arms and feet bound by spiked chains around the searing barrier._

_Around her were screams of agony, and she could sense the anger boiling up inside her, deep hatred for her situation blistering inside her soul as the fires torched her limbs._

_The flames never left a mark, but the endless pain remained._

_It was_ hell _._

_She wanted to scream, but her pride warred with her need to let her suffering be heard, and she remained silent, teeth gnashing in fury as she tried valiantly to ignore the ongoing torture._

_A large blast of fire appeared beside her, clearing up to reveal the form of a large man with red skin, with horns protruding from the top of his head. He had terrifying yellow eyes with slitted black irises, a dark goatee, and he wore a large blue cloak with a long white cape._

_She felt herself spit in disdain, a growl rising from her chest._

_“Dabura,” she felt herself say, and Bulma was once again surprised to realize that the voice belonged to Vegeta._

_She was in Vegeta’s body, once again, probably dreaming of another memory._

_Vegeta’s voice had been dripping in contempt, so Bulma thought that perhaps, this was a part of his servitude under Frieza._

_“Hello,_ your majesty _,” the large, demonic man greeted sarcastically. “I do hope you are enjoying your stay.”_

_“Fuck you,” Vegeta hissed._

_“Unfortunately for you, I do not find you attractive,” Dabura laughed. “I believe the only ones who would ever fuck you are your Saiyan courtesans, because they didn’t really have a choice, did they?”_

_“Tch,” Vegeta said. “I’ll have you know that I was the favorite lay of all the Saiyan courtesans.”_

_“And who was_ your _favorite lay, Prince Vegeta?”_

_Vegeta shut his mouth, pinching his lips hard against the urge to say something caustic back._

_Dabura laughed. “Oh, I had nearly forgotten. You did fall hard for that little Earthling woman, did you not?”_

_“You fucking leave her out of this, Dabura,” Vegeta growled._

_Bulma felt his anger rising once again, and she realized that Dabura had hit a sore spot with Vegeta._

_Wait… an Earthling? Vegeta had never been to Earth before he was sealed. Could this mean…_

_“Would you like to see her again, Prince?”_

_Vegeta turned his head away from Dabura, but the large devil simply floated towards him, holding out a small mirror that began to glow in his hands._

_“Watch, you wretch._ Watch _!” Dabura leered, and Bulma saw the mirror begin to turn into a viewing screen of sorts._

_She could see her bedroom, and she saw a small lump of blankets gathered into the center of her bed._

_It took her less than a moment to realize that the lump was none other than her._

_It was as she had been while she was still deep in her depression, a frail bundle of skin and bones that refused to get up from her bed, the worst version of herself that had been wishing for nothing but death._

_It was difficult, even for her, to see._

_She felt Vegeta gasp as his eyes fell on her miserable form, and she felt him clench his hands into tight fists. She felt his conflict, his wanting to look away, but being unable to tear his gaze from the sight of her in her darkest moments._

_“Do you see, Vegeta? See how you have made this woman suffer?” Dabura asked, and Vegeta gulped, as she felt an onslaught of guilt and pain fill his chest, a pain that made the agony of the flames licking at his body seem dull in comparison._

_“You were so selfish, Prince. If you had never tried to come back to life, this woman would still be living her wonderful life, full of energy and happiness,” Dabura whispered maliciously. “She would never have been targeted by Frieza, would never have had to suffer from her father’s trial. She would never have had to be in such pain…”_

_“Shut up!” Vegeta choked out. “Stop this, stop this right now!”_

_“Listen to her cry, Prince!” Dabura said, and all at once, Bulma heard her own voice surround them, her heart-wrenching cries of her own suffering leaving Vegeta breathless in despair and guilt._

_“Vegeta… Why… Why?” she heard her voice say weakly, and Vegeta closed his eyes, willing the vision and sound of her sadness away._

_“Please…” Vegeta began, and Bulma was shocked at the rawness of his voice. “Please stop. Let her just live. She… she does not deserve to be in this sort of pain. This was all because of me.”_

_“Well, I am glad that you at least know that, Prince,” Dabura said gleefully, removing the mirror as he began to back away from Vegeta. “Until the next time, your highness.”_

_With that, Dabura disappeared, leaving a despondent Vegeta to breathe heavily, fighting the despair in his heart._

_Bulma could do nothing but listen to his harsh breaths, feel the heaving of his chest and the single tear that trickled down his cheek._

_“Bulma,” he whispered, his voice soft, loving, reverent. “Be safe, my beloved...”_

8-8-8-8-8

As she woke from the dream, Bulma bolted up, her chest heavy with Vegeta’s pained thoughts, her limbs still stinging from the fires that burned her body from the inside and out.

She had been in literal hell.

Vegeta was in hell.

And he was in extreme agony.

She stood up, pacing her room as she gathered the scattered bits of her mind to piece together all that  she had learned.

Vegeta was dead, but somehow, whether he knew it or not, he was still communicating with her. Perhaps, it was the fact that their spirits had been linked for so long, that he was able to reach out to her from the afterlife.

Perhaps… if he was still linked with her…

Then maybe, she could still have him back.

She looked out the window, smiling at the rising sun, as she went to her cabinets and pulled out a pair of denim jeans and a comfortable white shirt.

She ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, then she dressed hurriedly, before she picked up her phone, and dialed.

“Hello,” the man’s voice was more alert than the last time she had called, so perhaps, he had already been awake this time.

“Goku, hi.”

“Bulma, great that you called! I found something when I went to Uranai yesterday-”

“You can tell me later. I need you to come and pick me up, now,” she said.

Goku paused. “Where are we going?”

She grinned.

“We are going to Uranai, you and I,” she said. “We are going to bring Vegeta back.”

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	8. Holding On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma is determined to find a way to bring Vegeta back, and with help from Goku and a reluctant Uranai, she journeys into the spirit world, ready to challenge the gods themselves for the right to her soulmate’s ultimate fate.
> 
> Entry for the @tpthvegebulmayhem Week 4 (Part 2 of 4).
> 
> Prompt: The Better To Grab You With
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Profane language; Slight sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guuuuys! This story just won the 2018 Vegebul Mayhem and I am so, SO happy! To everyone who followed this story on the Mayhem tumblr, thank you all SO much! And to everyone currently reading this and are leaving all this wonderful feedback, thank you, as well! I am on cloud nine right now, and it's all thanks to you guys!  
> Now, as for this chapter, this is Part 2 of 4, for my Week 4 entry. I hope you like it!

_“We are going to Uranai, you and I,” she said. “We are going to bring Vegeta back.”_

8-8-8-8-8

“Bulma, are you crazy?” Goku asked, a moment before a string of static filled her line, and she looked up just in time to see the familiar form of the tall Saiyan materializing before her.

She calmly placed her phone back onto her dresser, smiling placidly at the confounded man.

“Maybe. I don’t really know anymore, to be honest,” she said, half-jokingly. “But I need to try, Goku. Vegeta… he’s not completely gone, I think.”

Goku’s brows furrowed, concern filling his dark eyes. “Hey, look. I know that you’re really broken up about Prince Vegeta’s death, but you gotta listen to yourself, Bulma-”

“No, no, no, listen to me,” Bulma interjected, excitedly waving her arms around as a very vague plan began to form in her head.

“I’m listening,” Goku said, his tone clearly stating that he thought she had gone insane.

Bulma laughed. “He’s speaking to me, Goku. From the afterlife.”

Goku’s brows shot up. “O-kaaaay,” he said. “So, you’re like, a psychic now?”

“No! Vegeta was speaking to me through my dreams!”

“A dream psychic then?”

“No!” Bulma exclaimed, stomping her foot in mounting frustration. “I dreamed of him, I saw what is happening to him, right now!”

Goku still looked unconvinced. “I… I don’t get it?”

She sighed. “Alright. Remember how I dreamt of his past, through his eyes?”

He nodded.

“Well, now I dreamed of his _present._ In the afterlife. Right now,” she explained. “And he is suffering so badly there, Goku. He doesn’t deserve this. We _have_ to help him!”

“Look, I can kinda see how you would think that Prince Vegeta is talking to you, but how do you suggest we try to save him?” Goku asked, placing his fists on his hips.

“Uranai! She has a portal, right? Maybe we can use it or something!” then, Bulma paused. “Wait, didn’t you say that you found something when you went to Uranai?”

“Oh, right,” Goku said, arms dropping to his side. “Uranai told me that your soul is still linked to Vegeta’s, and that was why you can see his past. She can try to cut it, if you want-”

“ _No_!” she cried. “Are _you_ crazy? No! Why would I want to do that?”

“Well, Uranai said it would probably ease some of your pain, so you could move on.”

“No! Never,” she said, raising a hand to her chest, as if trying to find and protect her invisible link to Vegeta. “I need this link. This may be the one thing that can help me bring him back!”

Goku scratched his head. “You really think you can bring him back, huh?”

“I am positive. I can feel it. There has to be a way…” Bulma said. “After all, when Vegeta died, he was not in his real body, right? Because he didn’t kill me, he never got his real body back. So maybe… Maybe he is not completely dead.”

The Saiyan’s eyes widened at that. “You know… that makes a lot of sense.”

“Of course, I’m a genius, after all!” Bulma bragged. “So you have to help me, Goku. Don’t you want to have your Prince back?”

Goku’s eyes brightened, and a determined smile stretched his lips.

“If you really think there is a chance we can bring him back,” he said, “I’m comin’ with ya. What do you need me to do?”

Bulma smiled, the widest and most enthusiastic one she had ever smiled, in years.

She put her hands on Goku’s arm, then said, “First, I need you to take me to my office. There are a few items there that I need to pick up, just in case.”

He nodded, then, lifted his fingers up to his forehead in a heart wrenching, familiar way that reminded Bulma all the more of how important it was that her plan succeeds.

It was the only way to have Vegeta back.

The dizzying moment of transmission passed quickly enough, and Bulma immediately went to her desk, running to the cabinet behind it.

She popped open her secret drawer, pulling out the small blaster that she had made upon Vegeta’s suggestion.

She looked at it, hoping against hope that the small weapon could hold out if she needed it in a fight.

This would be the blaster’s first real-world test drive.

God, but she hoped that the lab tests were accurate.

After pulling out the gun and securely tucking it into a customized gun holster that she had especially made for it, she went to her desk and opened her first drawer.

Within that drawer, was a small capsule containing her most precious invention: her tiny, personalized multi-terrain hover car. It had the ability to run speeds up to a thousand miles per hour, but had highly sophisticated stabilizers built in so that the passenger remains unharmed.

She had used it only once, and she knew for a fact that the thing was advanced enough to run several thousand miles with a single full tank of gasoline.

She picked up ten gasoline capsules and a mini capsule full of energy bars as well, just to be sure, and secured those and the hover car into a pouch beside her blaster.

“Alright,” she grinned, turning back to Goku. “Now, let’s go to Uranai.”

Goku nodded, letting her hold on to his arm once again while he teleported them to Kame House.

When they arrived, Bulma looked around, noting that the entire island looked exactly the same as the last time she had been there. It was almost as if the island was trapped in time, where the lone tree shading the small house never grew but also never wilted, and the sand remained unmoved in spite of the water’s constant motions.

Bulma realized then, that the portal must have been the one responsible for keeping this lone island seemingly suspended in time.

After all, how else could she explain the fact that the guardian of the portal had been around for more than two hundred years?

She stepped into the small house, followed by Goku, who quietly shut the door behind them.

She looked around, and her eyes met the open trapdoor leading down into the basement, where she had previously seen Uranai as she worked on her Spirit Bridge.

Bulma took a deep breath.

“Uranai!” she called out. “Uranai! It’s Bulma and Goku, we need your help!”

“Grandma Uranai!” Goku called out, as well.

“Just a minute!” the old, raspy female voice called out, “I am coming! Kami, you youngsters are always in a hurry.”

They both waited impatiently as they heard the old woman begin to make her way up the creaky stairs from the basement, and as soon as the tip of her pointy black hat came into view, Goku swooped in, practically dragging the old witch up the remaining few steps.

“Aiyeeee!” Uranai screamed as Goku lifted her, placing her down before Bulma.

“Goku, you idiot, I thought I was going to fall!” Uranai scolded, giving Goku a solid whack on the head with her wooden cane.

“Ow! I’m sorry, you were taking so long and I was excited!” he said, rubbing at the sore spot.

“What in all the realms are you so excited about that you had to drag me from my portal?” she asked, dusting imaginary lint from her dress before she turned to Bulma. “Hello, Bulma.”

“Hi, Uranai,” Bulma greeted, shifting her weight between her feet as she basically jogged in place, in a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety. “We need your help.”

“So I have heard,” the crone said drily. “And how may I assist you two, today?”

“We wanna go into the Other World!” Goku burst out.

Uranai’s eyes went so large that Bulma feared that they would pop out of her skull.

“You what?!” Uranai asked, scandalized.

Bulma stood straighter, then said, with a lot more calmness than she actually felt. “Goku and I need your help to go into the Spirit realm, or afterlife.”

Uranai bristled. “No! Are you crazy?”

Bulma sighed. “This is not the first time I was asked that question today.”

“Because what you want to do is insane!” Uranai screeched, leaping up to her eye level to drive her point home. “No! Absolutely not… that is out of the question!”

“Please, Uranai!” Goku said. “Bulma has an idea and she thinks that she can maybe bring Prince Vegeta back!”

“Goku, you idiot, that is not possible,” Uranai said. “Once someone has entered the spirit world, there will be no going back! And it is not just for Prince Vegeta… why do you think I get so angry when you or anyone else tries to enter the basement? A living being going into the spirit world would immediately be sucked in and turned into a spirit.”

“Not everyone,” Bulma interjected. “The last time I went into the basement, the spirits did not sense me, did they, Uranai?”

Uranai went still. “No, they did not,” she answered solemnly. “But it could have been for any number of reasons-”

“You told Goku that Vegeta and I are still linked,” Bulma said. “It means that his dead spirit is connected to mine. I may have just enough of him in me for the spirits not to realize who I am, until I could get to Vegeta.”

“And what do you propose to do once you get there, huh?” Uranai asked. “Just pull Vegeta back with you? That could never work.”

“No, but if I was down there, I could find a way,” Bulma said, before she suddenly sobered as she thought of another, much less ideal possibility. “Or, even if I couldn’t… at least I could see him one last time.”

“Tsk,” Uranai said. “Your sentimentality will get you killed, child.”

Bulma looked straight at Uranai. “And was it not sentimentality that got Vegeta killed, as well? If he had taken my life as he was supposed to, he could have been in his full power and could have killed Frieza, without dying, himself.”

Bulma gulped. “He risked everything, going into the fight at partial strength. That was the reason why he had to wait for the Red Moon, after all, was it not? He needed all possible advantages, because he knew that he was going in with a very distinct disadvantage.”

She couldn’t stop speaking as the full impact of what Vegeta had given up for her hit her all at once. “He had waited thirty years, thirty gods damned years, only to let it all go because he didn’t want to sacrifice me. For his sake… for his sake, I need to try everything I could to see if I could save him, as well.”

Uranai looked at her with a face full of sympathy and uncertainty, but finally, nodded.

“Alright. I will see if I can get you into the spirit realm. But Goku,” she turned to the Saiyan. “You stay _here_. You are very much alive, with no spirit links, and an overflowing amount of power. The spirits will devour you in less than a second.”

“Is there no way I can help?” Goku asked, turning concerned eyes to Bulma. “Bulma isn’t strong, or fast. She’s an Earthling and I don’t know how she could manage without someone there to protect her.”

“I’ll have Vegeta protecting me,” she said, smiling at her spiky-haired friend. “He’s in my soul, Goku. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

“Don’t say your goodbyes, just yet,” Uranai interrupted. “I still need to see if I can actually manage to push you into the spirit world. We have a lot of sound theories but we won’t know for sure until I go and try.”

“We can do it Uranai, I’m sure!” Bulma said, a wave of conviction going through her along with the relief that Uranai had agreed to help her.

Uranai turned slowly towards the stairs leading down to the basement, and Bulma followed right behind her, her heart pounding quick, rapid beats as the gravity of what she was about to do started to fall upon her shoulders.

She was going into the spirit realm. She was going in there, mixing up with various ghosts and monsters and heaven knows what else.

But she was doing it for Vegeta.

“Can’t you calm down a little? Even I can hear your heartbeats from here. The spirits will pounce on you if you keep that up,” Uranai scolded, and Bulma took a few deep breaths as she began to take the few final steps into the basement.

A thick wooden wall concealed the basement from the stairs, and as Uranai turned the corner going into the hidden area, Bulma put her hand on her chest, willing her heart to calm down.

She could do this. She _wanted_ to do this. But it certainly didn’t mean that it wasn’t terrifying.

She took the last few steps, passing the wooden wall…

Her heart stopped beating, her breath caught in her throat.

The Spirit Bridge was a large, circular black hole that seemingly led into endless darkness, floating ominously over a wide, glassy, flat surface that resembled the mirror that she had seen Dabura holding up to Vegeta in her dream.

The portal itself was dark, a void, but small wisps of foul-smelling clouds and thin strips of weak energy wafted in and out of the portal, a horrifying glimpse of the things that likely awaited Bulma down beneath the blackness. It was large, about twice her height, and as she came closer, she heard the howling from within it growing louder, as the wispy threads of energy began to turn an angry red.

Uranai turned to her, her wrinkled face somber and worried. “Some of the spirits can sense you Bulma. If you are not extremely careful, they will find you, and will suck you in with them, forever. Are you sure that you are up to this?”

Bulma took a very deep breath.

“Yes, I want to do this, Uranai,” she confirmed, looking determinedly at the portal, almost daring it to try and stop her from finding her man.

She was going to _literally_ die trying to get him back.

“Alright, listen to me,” Uranai said. “I will open the Spirit Bridge for you, but once you get in, you have to hurry. Run as fast as you can.”

“Can I use a hover car?” Bulma asked hopefully, already feeling the weight of her capsules in her belt.

The crone blinked. “You brought one?”

“Yep!” Bulma beamed proudly, patting her pocket full of capsules.

“Well then. That is a great amount of foresight,” Uranai commented. “Now. As I was saying. Run, or _drive_ as fast as you can. As you touch down onto the Spirit World, you will find a very long and winding path that we call the Snake Way. At the very end of the Snake Way, is the King of the Underworld, King Yemma. He is the one you need to talk to, if you wish to bring Vegeta back.”

Uranai cleared her throat. “Now, remember: along the way, make sure you interact with as little amount of beings as possible. The longer you are with them, the easier it may be for them to figure out that you are not dead, and they will try to kill you.”

Bulma gulped, then nodded.

“Would you happen to have a weapon with you?

She patted her pocket with a smug smirk.

Uranai just shook her head. “I see that it must be the arrogance that attracted the Prince to you.”

She laughed at that, flipping her blue hair off her shoulder, noting that the portal now seemed to be blowing out an increasingly strong gust of wind.

Uranai spoke again, “Make sure that you blast anyone who gets too close, especially if they try to pull you down with them. If you fall off the Snake Way, you will fall directly into Hell, and no one can help you from there as King Yemma would not have known of your presence yet.”

Bulma frowned. “Why don’t you just tell him ahead that I am coming?”

“Do you have any idea how long the waiting time is to get an appointment with King Yemma? The ongoing wait list is fifty years.”

“Oh.”

“Well then. Are you ready?” Uranai asked, lifting her hands up to the portal, and Bulma stared in awe as a little point of light appeared in the very center of the darkness.

The light grew larger, very slowly, until Bulma saw that the light was now large enough to accommodate a small child.

Uranai started shouting, “Jump in as soon as you think the hole is large enough for you to fit through. I don’t know how much longer I can hold this open! Also, I do not have the powers to bring you back here, so you _need_ to reach King Yemma so he can push you back out into the living world.”

Bulma nodded, jogging lightly as she tried to figure out the best way to jump into the hole.

She held onto the edges of the light, ignoring the burning sensation caused by the bits of darkness licking at her fingers.

Lunging up with all the strength she could muster into her arms, she lifted herself up, pushing her head and shoulders into the hole, before she leaned down to slide the rest of her body down the bright part of the portal, barely squeezing her butt in as Uranai started losing strength.

“Go!” Uranai yelled, and Bulma pulled herself down, sliding down the tunnel, shrieking all the way.

She screamed, trying to spin around so she wouldn’t land on her face once she finally reached solid ground. She was hurtling down the tunnel of light at a fast rate, and she was quite sure that her landing was going to hurt.

She saw a slight change in hue from a few meters before her and she realized then that she must have been rapidly approaching the Snake Way.

She braced herself, not quite sure if she should go on feet first, afraid of injuring her legs.

“Dammit why didn’t I pay more attention to Physical Ed classes?” she whimpered as the surface came closer and closer…

She braced herself, wrapping her arms around her head…

Only to fall butt first onto a very soft pile of cushions, the small pillows burying her as she sank deep into the cloud-like mattress.

She opened her eyes, that she had not realized that she had shut, only to see the most amazing span of virtual nothingness that she had ever thought to see.

The mattress she had fallen on was round and airy, and she struggled a bit to get off the bed-like contraption so she can stand on her two feet on the relatively smooth ground below.

She stood on the yellowish road that looked like smooth marble, edged on all sides by tiny golden frills. Beyond the narrow road was an endless sea of the puffiest white clouds, reminding Bulma of huge rolls of cotton candy.

She looked behind her, looking for the opening to the portal, and to her utter dismay, discovered that the light tunnel was gone. The only thing behind her was more nothingness, and the airy bed that she had fallen onto.

She was at the end of the Snake Way, and was truly on her own.

She knocked the heels of her shoes on the pavement, noting the sound of her feet hitting concrete.

Bulma was baffled. What was with all the warnings to stay away from the spirits? The place was absolutely empty.

She released her capsule containing the hovercraft, then got into the car as soon as the vehicle materialized before her.

She remembered Uranai telling her to run as fast as she can, so she immediately set the craft up to its highest speed, leaning back as the craft flew through at speeds that would normally be dizzyingly deadly if she wasn’t within a stabilized car.

It did not take long for Bulma to finally understand what it was that Uranai had been warning her about, after all.

She had been travelling the single, winding road for a few hours, probably half a day, when the skies suddenly grew darker.

She had been snacking on an energy bar when she looked out the viewing walls of the craft, and only then realized that the puffy clouds outside had begun to morph into darkened shrouds of smoke, with angry red bolts of lightning screeching out of their edges, and moving ever closer to her as she went deeper through the Snake Way.

She took the wheel, moving into a manual pilot override, so she can stir the hover car should anything try to hit her or get in the way.

Bulma watched in trepidation as the smoke began to hover closer to the edges of the Snake Way, the sharp shards of electricity zipping out and trying to lick her tiny car.

She wrenched her car to the right, avoiding a particularly long bolt, quickly righting her path so that she stayed on top of the road.

She distinctly remembered Uranai telling her not to fall off the Snake Way, and she was definitely not in the mood to find out if the bad side of Hell was truly just beyond those golden edges.

The clouds were getting darker, thicker, visibly denser, and Bulma tried harder to stay away from the flits of energy that would surely fry her circuitry if she got hit.

If her car broke down, she was so dead. She was deader than dead.

The Snake Way seemed endless, and she knew that she would have no hope of reaching the end of it if she was on foot.

She kept on moving forward, slowing down a little as she had to carefully maneuver around the dark clouds that were really closing in on her, attempting to crush her with their darkness, should they successfully catch her in their grasp.

A large mass of darkness suddenly blocked her way, and Bulma screamed, sure that she would not be able to duck out of the way.

Her shock was immeasurable, when she simply passed through the cloud, emerging onto a once again, clear and cottony clouded Snake Way.

Her heart was pumping a mile a minute, and she looked around in confusion, not quite understanding the sudden shift.

“Better just be thankful, I suppose,” she muttered, engaging her auto pilot once again so she can go at faster speeds, now that the dark clouds were gone.

A few more hours later, she began to wish for the dark clouds to come back.

A horde of demons, stereotypical looking demons with dark eyes, pointed horns and arrow-tipped tails, began to emerge from the edges of the Snake Way.

Bulma pushed the hover car as fast as it would go as she swerved and dodged around the beings who seemed to know that she was a living person, as they with all their might to grab a hold of her round little vehicle to pull it down with them.

She had to disengage the auto pilot once more, as the car insisted on just pushing forward instead of dodging the demons, but the problems really started to pile up when Bulma needed to slow down the vehicle so that her reflexes can keep up with the movements.

She could not afford to simply keep dodging, she had to go on the offense.

Reaching down to her belt, she pulled her experimental blaster out of her holster, powered it up, before she lifted a tiny latch from the very center of the hover car.

The latch was specifically designed so that she can secure her specialized weapons onto the console in case she needed firepower.

At the time she had been drafting the designs, she had giggled to herself, thinking it ridiculous for her to design a vehicle that was so obviously needed for adventurous situations, when the most adventurous that she had been before was drinking one flask of wine too many.

Now, she thanked her lucky stars for whatever streak of insanity had possessed her to make her include the gun hatch in her vehicles.

She engaged the blaster, adjusting it to the medium firing strength, then, keeping her fingers crossed, pressed the trigger.

A blinding flash of pure energy exploded from the front of her vehicle, causing her to stumble back as the blaster released its load. The blast was stronger than she had anticipated, and the interior of the vehicle started to shake as Bulma began pressing the trigger more often, more quickly, effectively destroying tens of demons with a single shot.

There were hundreds of monsters, and Bulma felt the terror creep into her heart as she realized that all it would take was a single wrong move on her side, and they would overwhelm her, dragging her down into the abyss with them to suffer an eternity of flames and torture.

She would have welcomed death, if not for the thought of a life that she needed to save. The life of Vegeta was in her hands, and she could not afford to fail.

She persevered, pushing her hovercraft to its limits as she flew up and over the demons, blasting anything that got too close.

The crowd of demons grew denser, while she herself started to become braver, feeling more confident as she thought that this was actually rather fun, if she pretended that it was just a video game.

She saw a tiny spot of light ahead, a very small opening largely obscured by the horde of monsters, and she realized that this spot was her most likely escape, probably the end of a tunnel that she had to cross to get to King Yemma.

The spot was growing larger, and she became more determined, hands flying over her controls as she snaked through the enemies and blasted through the ones that would not quit.

She was sweating now, the exhaustion seeping into her bones after the several-hour long dangerous journey, but she was almost there!

She had to hold on, just a bit more. Just… a bit… more!

With a final, desperate attempt, she set her blaster on the highest setting, then, bracing herself for the recoil, fired.

The blast was nearly deafening in its power, shocking even Bulma, who had never yet used the maximum setting during the trials.

She stared, absolutely flabbergasted, as almost all of the demons blocking her melted away, and she took the chance to immediately push her vehicle to full speed, flying past the surprised monsters as she hurtled her way into the small tunnel.

She was in the tunnel for but a few seconds, before she found herself in the middle of a humongous open area, where, at the end, was a large castle-like structure with the words “Check-In Station” emblazoned on a large neon signage stuck to the highest turret.

Bulma whooped, seeing that beyond the castle, there was nothing more, and this was clearly the end of the Snake Way, where she can find King Yemma.

She dropped down onto the large center lawn, attracting the attention of several people standing around the palace garden.

She pulled her blaster out of the console before hurriedly leaping out, encapsulating the hover car as fast as she could before she ran full-throttle towards the open doors.

“Hey! That woman is alive!” One large, humanoid monster with blue skin, purple hair and a single yellow horn atop his head shouted. “Mez! It’s a living human!”

Bulma kept running as the blue man bounded after her, joined by a similarly large demon with red skin, small spectacles and black hair combed around two small yellow horns.

“Goz! Get her!” the red-skinned man shouted, and the blue demon nodded, charging at Bulma, who frantically scrambled to get away from them as the doors loomed ever closer.

She lifted her gun, turning to aim at the two demons behind her, completely forgetting that the blaster was still on the maximum setting.

She fired, but the impact from the gun sent it flying harshly from her grip and her hitting the floor hard, and she cried out as she landed painfully on her behind, a few feet away from the door.

Ignoring her protesting limbs and buttocks, she leapt up, scrambling her way to the door, knowing that if she got inside, she would be able to meet with King Yemma.

He had to be there. He just had to be!

She skidded into the castle, only to find herself in the midst of a large room full of people waiting in a straight line.

All the people looked at her curiously as she kept running, heading towards the front of the line, where she hoped to meet someone who could take her to King Yemma.

The two monsters were still behind her, and they were quickly gaining on her. She was tiring now, and she felt tears of exhaustion fill her eyes as she forced her legs to go on.

She could see  an enormous desk, at least five storeys high, just in front of her. She sprinted towards it, reaching for it, knowing that she was almost there…

A large hand suddenly clamped over her arms, forcibly hauling her up and off her feet, and she screamed, furiously kicking her legs around, hoping to get the attacker to drop her.

“Please! Let me go! I am so close! I need to speak to him, please!” she screamed, clawing at the thick hands that held her effortlessly above the ground. “Please, I beg you! I need to speak to King Yemma!”

An uncomfortable hush fell over the gathered crowd, before she heard the impossibly loud scraping of wood against stone.

It was as if an entire tree was being scraped against the side of a mountain, and Bulma realized that whoever had been behind the gigantic desk was moving, and the loud sound was that of the enormous chair as it was pushed away from the table.

“What do we have here?” a loud, thunderous voice sounded from above her, and Bulma almost screamed as she looked into the large beady eyes of a man who was at least a hundred feet tall.

He had red skin, two large white horns peaking from the side of his shaggy-haired and fully-bearded head. He was wearing a purple suit with a matching hat, with a white shirt underneath that was collared by a bright orange neck tie.

“Mez? Goz? What is the meaning of this?”

“Lord Yemma!” The red demon said, visibly shaking with terror.

Bulma stared at the humongous demon lord, renewing her efforts to break free from the demon holding her.

“Lord Yemma,” the blue demon said. “We found this living woman outside. She ran into the throne room, she was fast. We will take her now.”

“Please, no!” Bulma cried. “King Yemma, my name is Bulma. Please! I need to talk to you!”

Yemma looked at her sternly as he answered. “How did you get here, human?”

“Uranai helped me through the portal,” she said, making the demon king raise a brow in surprise. “She helped me because I need to talk to you about a man who is not supposed to be here.”

“And how did you manage to make it this far? The demons would have devoured you the moment you landed onto the Snake Way,” Yemma asked.

“Because my spirit is linked to the man I need to speak to you about, so the less powerful demons probably did not sense me. They weren’t reacting to me as I approached the Spirit Bridge.”

“Goz,” Yemma said. “Release her.”

Bulma immediately felt the hands around her let go, and she fell, nearly losing her balance as she righted herself after the rough treatment.

“Alright. Who is this man you are referring to?” Yemma asked.

Bulma took a deep breath. “Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans.”

Goz and Mez released simultaneous gasps, and Yemma himself looked taken aback.

Mez, the red demon, spoke up. “Vegeta of the Saiyans most definitely is supposed to be here. His spirit has been partially in hell for thirty human years, girl.”

“Yes, I know. And that is the reason why I am here. His soul is tied to mine,” she began.

“Do you want the bond to be cut?” Yemma asked.

“No! Please, no. Why does everyone think I want the bond cut? I don’t want the bond to be cut,” she exclaimed. “I want Vegeta to come back with me to the living world.”

“Absolutely not!” Mez said. “Do you even know what you are asking? That man deserves Hell more than any being you have ever met on Earth!”

“He is right, girl,” Yemma agreed “Vegeta has killed so many people, beyond what you can imagine. He conquered dozens of planets, ended millions of lives.”

“But he did those under orders from Frieza! It wasn’t him who wanted to do it!” she decried.

“True, but it does not excuse the fact that those people died by his hand. We also need to remember that he borrowed a false form to return to the living world for selfish reasons; just so he can take his revenge from Frieza. Thus, his crimes cannot go unpunished. He has yet to do anything that would absolve him of his sins.”

“He died for me!” Bulma said, feeling her tears rising to the fore once again. She quickly dashed them with her hand, just in time to see the expression of profound surprise on Yemma’s face.

“Truly?”

“Yes!” she answered. “He… he let himself die, so I could live. His soul is linked to mine, and for him to survive, all he had to do was kill me. But he chose to go into his fight with Frieza weakened, because he didn’t want to harm me.”

She choked as she kept speaking. “He could have lived on, but he gave himself up, for me. I need him, King Yemma. I need him back. Please,” she begged, “please, let me have him back.”

Yemma looked at her in sympathy. “I would allow it,” he began, and Bulma was about to scream in joy when he held up his hand. “However… He is currently being watched by Dabura, and you will need to convince him, too. Dabura is the king of Hell, and was the one who gave Vegeta a way to return to the living world, following his conditions. If he agrees, you and Vegeta need to come back here to the check-in station so I could write his name off the book of souls until he dies again. Are we clear?”

Bulma nodded. “Yes! I will try to convince Dabura. Where should I go?”

Yemma grinned, before he snapped a finger, and before Bulma could even blink, she was in a dark, dreary area filled with little potholes full of flames, screams of agony echoing around her while the heat of the flames burned her skin.

She recognized the place immediately.

 _Hell_.

She walked aimlessly, trying to avoid the flames but not knowing where to go.

“Dammit,” she muttered, ducking away from yet another tongue of flame that looked a little too much like long, thin claws trying to reach for her. “ ** _The better to grab_** _you and kill **you with** ,” _she thought sarcastically.  

She yelped as she jumped away from a hole that spewed fire up, nearly singeing her hair. “I hate this place. Vegeta, you better be thankful for this.”

“ _Bulma_?”

She nearly lost her footing when a voice, dripping with surprise and confusion, rang loudly, clearly, in her head.

It was Vegeta’s voice!

“Vegeta?!” she asked aloud, heart pounding in her throat.

“ _Bulma? Is that you?_ ”

Tears filled her eyes, falling down her cheeks before she lifted her hands to wipe them away.

“Vegeta? It’s me!” she sobbed, “I am so happy to hear your voice again.”

“ _What the fuck are you doing? Are you really in the Spirit World?_ ”

“Yes! I came here to get you!” she said, hearing the infuriated concern in his voice in her head.

“ _Get the hell out of here, you crazy woman!_ ” he hissed in her head. “ _This place is dangerous!_ ”

“I know!” she laughed. “But I don’t care! Now, where are you?”

“ _In Hell, somewhere! It is not as if we have postal addresses.”_

“Oh, ha-ha. Can you lead me?”

“ _I… I don’t know. Bulma, how did you get here? How did you survive long enough to get to Hell?”_

She sobered, letting a fond smile wash over her face as she stood still in the midst of the literal fires of Hell.

“I stayed strong and thought of you, Vegeta. I wanted to see you again, so no matter how hard it was… I kept holding on.”

She could feel his happiness flow through her, reminding her of the time when he was still in the orb, and his emotions poured into her body as she held his tiny prison in her hand.

“ _I wish to see you too. But please, woman... you have to leave. It is not safe…”_

“No, Vegeta! I’m gonna find you. You can’t stop me. Not now,” she replied, tiptoeing through another group of flaming stones.

“ _Fine then. Insolent wench._ ”

“Stubborn jerk,” she said, grinning affectionately. “Hey. Keep talking to me. I think… I think I can hear your voice getting louder. Maybe I can hear you better, the closer I get.”

“ _Tch. What do you want me to say?_ ”

“I don’t know. Anything, really. Keep it up, I can hear you better now.”

“ _I have no idea what I should talk about! Ask me something so I can answer._ ”

“Alright,” she said, a small frown marring her face as she thought of what to ask. Then…

“Vegeta,” Bulma began. “Why didn’t you want to kill me? It would have been easier for you, far less risky for you and your team. So… why?”

“ _Are you seriously asking me this? I would have thought that it would have been clear by now.”_

“No, it’s not,” she answered. “I… I have my guesses, but… I want to know what you were really thinking.”

“ _I was thinking that I did not want any harm to come upon you, and yet here you are, actively seeking ways to die._ ”

She giggled. “You care about me. Admit it.”

She was met by silence.

“ Vegeta? Hey. Vegeta? Are you still there? Veg-”

“ _I more than care about you, woman. Never doubt that._ ”

His words rang clearly through her heart, sending warmth through her soul, and as she took another step forward past a large pillar of melting metal, her eyes widened as she saw the one person who had made this journey to Hell all worth the trouble.

“Vegeta!” she cried, running carelessly through the field of fire when she saw his familiar, muscular form, chained to a tall, wide metal pole.

He looked up, and his dark eyes filled with elation as he saw her running towards him.

“Bulma!” he called, straining against his bindings, trying his best to reach her, to move as close as possible to her in spite of his bindings.

“Vegeta!” she said his name again as she ran to him, holding her hands out as she threw herself forward, reaching out to hold his face in her palms before desperately pressing her mouth to his in a kiss that she had wanted, needed, for oh, so long.

He kissed her back with equal fervor, his mouth slanting against hers as she whimpered, gasping in joy as they finally, _finally_ touched once again after what seemed like an eternity apart.

“Bulma,” he whispered against her lips, still straining against the thick chains that bound him against the large beam.

She pulled away, looking at him through teary eyes. “I can’t believe I’m holding you again.”

“I can’t believe you actually travelled to Hell to see me again, after everything I have caused you to suffer through,” he rasped.

“Don’t say that,” she said with a light laugh, before she leaned back, hands on his chest as she assessed him. “Now, how can I set you free from this thing?”

“You can’t,” an eerily familiar voice said from behind her, and she heard Vegeta growl as she turned, and found herself staring at the form of a monster that she had seen once in her dreams.

“You’re Dabura,” she said, a note of accusation in her tone.

“Why yes. So glad to know that my reputation precedes me,” he said with a short bow. “You must be Bulma! Yemma has told me a little about you.”

She stood stiffly, placing herself between Vegeta and the demon who was looming over them.

“Now… Yemma told me that you wanted to take Vegeta with you, back to the world of the living. Is that right?” Dabura asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “He told me to talk to you.”

“And what were you planning to do if I refuse?” Dabura sneered. “After all, Vegeta and I made a deal when I agreed to equip him with a temporary body. I was promised the soul of his spiritual counterpart, and when that failed, I got his. If I just let him leave, what do I get out of this agreement, then?”

She stilled. She did not really have a plan for that.

She realized… if Dabura wanted a soul, then… “I was thinking of offering you a compromise. You can keep me here instead of Vegeta.”

“Out of the question!”  Vegeta roared from behind her. “Bulma, you are going back to the living realm, now!”

“No! I’m not going anywhere without you!” she protested, looking at him over her shoulder.

Dabura smirked. “See, there is a problem here. You,” he pointed at Bulma, “are not dead. But your soul is tethered here through him,” as he pointed at Vegeta.

“So, either way,” he continued, “if you stay here in the land of the dead, Vegeta… this woman will always come knocking. And Yemma didn’t cut your bond. The only way for any of you to be in your correct worlds is if you are both either fully alive, or fully dead.”

Vegeta growled, “You are not going to touch a single hair on her head, Dabura. If you harm her, I swear that I will find a way to permanently destroy you, myself.”

“I wasn’t planning to kill her, Vegeta,” Dabura smirked. “What I am saying is… I spoke to Yemma. Since you were incomplete upon death, you apparently did not fully die. So, if I were so inclined, I could let you go back to Earth.”

Bulma’s eyes widened.

Could it be? Would Dabura let Vegeta go?

“However, as I said before,” the demon king continued, “if I just let you go, where does that leave me? I would have just made a bad business deal. I expect recompense.”

She held her breath.

“If I were to bring you back to life, Saiyan, I demand a price. Something of equivalent value,” Dabura grinned.

“Name it, Dabura,” Bulma interrupted.

She was prepared. Even if he asked for her soul in return, she would give it.

The demon smiled, letting them see his fang-like teeth, as a wicked gleam entered his eyes.

“I demand that the Prince give up his Super Saiyan powers, and his skill with ki alchemy.”

Bulma gasped, while Vegeta growled.

“You… you expect him to give up his powers?” she asked, appalled.

“Not all of it,” Dabura said. “Just the Legendary Super Saiyan, as well as the alchemy. The Super Saiyan powers will no longer be needed, after all. It is an incredible power that will be unnecessary on Earth. As for the ki alchemy, it is what landed you both here in the first place, so I am taking it to balance everything out and avoid such difficult situations in the future.”

Bulma’s eyes widened as she realized that apparently, the final price that they needed to pay for their ultimate happiness was no longer either her or Vegeta’s lives, but his powers.

The power of the Super Saiyan, she knew, was Vegeta’s pride and joy. The thing that made him one of the most revered Saiyans to have ever existed…

“Take it,” Vegeta suddenly growled beside her.

She turned to him sharply. “Vegeta?”

“Take my Super Saiyan powers, Dabura. Take the ki alchemy, as well,” he continued. “Take whatever you want from me, if it means that I can go back to the living realm with Bulma.”

Vegeta turned to her then, his eyes soft, his lips curved into a small yet beautiful smile that Bulma burned into her heart. “If I can be with Bulma, no price is too steep.”

Dabura grinned, a dark smile filled with unholy glee that made the flames of Hell look pale in comparison. “Good.”

He raised his arms, and Bulma watched as Dabura formed a set of web-like energy strands that he then sent flying towards Vegeta.

“Vegeta!” she screamed, panicked, when Vegeta began to convulse, his body glowing in a dark golden glow that slowly seeped into the webs around Dabura’s fingers.

Vegeta groaned, slumping forward, his hair turning golden, then going back to black, switching erratically until the golden color of his hair appeared to melt away from him, forming a ball that flew towards Dabura, who opened his mouth to swallow the legendary energy.

Dabura finally released Vegeta, his chains snapping free from the pole, and Bulma stepped closer to him to catch him as he fell limply into her arms.

“Now, both of you, don’t worry. I may be a demon, but I have no intentions of using the legendary powers to harm you. I only took it as a form of check and balance,” Dabura said.

Bulma held Vegeta close, and as she did, she felt his body go from his usual abnormally hot temperature, to a heat that was closer to her own.

“Now, Vegeta is back in his full, mortal body. I can no longer keep you both here, so I am sending you to Yemma,” the demon said, then with a cheeky bow, added, “It was nice doing business with you.”

A second later, both Bulma and Vegeta found themselves in King Yemma’s large office, on the very top of his desk.

Yemma was above them, squinting at them, before he suddenly smiled.

He raised a hand, snapped…

And in the next second, Bulma found herself in the center of a house in the middle of nowhere, a tiny island home that hid a secret portal into the other world.

“Bulma,” Vegeta whispered as he held her, his arms tight around her as he took a deep breath beside her neck, taking in the scent of her hair.

And Bulma, blinded once again by her tears, could only smile as she caressed his face, ran her hands up and down his back…

She did it.

Vegeta was back. And she was never, ever, going to let him go again.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	9. The Ultimate Prize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma had risked her life for him; Vegeta had to give up a huge part of himself to be with her. And yet, in each other’s arms, they knew that all of the pain, suffering and loss, was more than worth it. For with each other, they were complete.
> 
> Entry for the @tpthvegebulmayhem,Week 4 (Part 3 of 4).
> 
> Prompt: Prick Her Finger On A Spindle
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Smut / Explicit sexual content; Profane language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part 3 of 4, for my Week 4 entry. This chapter ends with smut, so if you are uncomfortable with graphic sexual content, please feel free to skip that part.  
> This is the last chapter before the Epilogue that I will be posting tomorrow! I hope you like this, and as always, your feedback will be greatly appreciated!

It did not take long at all for their short moment of peace to be shattered.

Goku suddenly burst into the house, eyes wide and wild in disbelief as he saw Bulma holding Vegeta on the floor of Kame House.

“Prince Vegeta!” he yelled, his voice high-pitched in his excitement, and he flew to wrap both Bulma and Vegeta in a huge, ecstatic hug that caused laughter to bubble up from Bulma’s chest.

“Bulma! You did it! You were right!” he was shouting, and Bulma smiled as the taller Saiyan looked near tears in his happiness. “You’re amazing Bulma!”

“She is, isn’t she?” Vegeta’s rough, exhausted voice, rasped out, and Goku looked at him in a mixture of awe and genuine concern.

“She really is. And I am happy to see you again, your Highness. But… You must be exhausted,” Goku said, right as Uranai burst into the room.

She was heaving, as if she had just run up the stairs of the basement.

“Oh, gods. You did it, Bulma!” she crowed, eyes also wide in glee and disbelief.

“Yes! And I am so happy,” Bulma laughed, her arms still wrapped around Vegeta, who had now begun to shiver.

“Hey, are you ok?” she asked him, to which he nodded.

“I am… adjusting. I have not been in my own true body for a very long time,” he admitted.

“That is true,” Uranai said. “Welcome back, your Highness.”

“Thank you,” Vegeta said, before he looked up, looking between Bulma, Goku and Uranai. “I thank you all for this… for all that you have done.”

“It is no problem at all, Prince,” Goku beamed.

“Goku, could you help me take Vegeta back to Capsule Corp?” Bulma asked, noting the ongoing shudders racking Vegeta’s frame.

“Sure thing,” Goku said, before turning to Uranai. “Thank you for your help, Grandma Uranai.”

“You are welcome,” the crone said. “Now go, you all deserve some rest.”

“Thank you,” Bulma said sincerely, before she reached out a hand to place it on Goku’s arm.

Goku laid his hand on Vegeta’s shoulder as he lifted a hand to his forehead, and Bulma felt the dizzy feeling brought by the instant transmission a second before she found herself in her bedroom, Goku and Vegeta still with her.

Vegeta had all but slumped unconscious by then, so she and Goku carefully lifted up the weakened prince, bringing him to lie down in the center of Bulma’s large bed.

Bulma stood back for a second after they had sprawled Vegeta onto her sheets, an overjoyed smile on her face as she stared at a vision that, just a day before, she had never expected to see again.

Vegeta.

Vegeta, alive.

Vegeta, alive, and in her bed.

It was a most euphoric feeling, staring at the man she loved most in the whole world, a man that she had already lost, but now was there with her once again.

It was a true miracle, and she was going to cherish every single moment with him, for the rest of their lives.

Goku looked down at Vegeta with a slight smile, before he turned back to Bulma.

“I should go,” he said softly. “He looks really tired, so I will drop by and visit you tomorrow morning.”

“Goku, before you go,” Bulma said, placing a hand on his arm again. “How long was I gone?”

“Two days.”

“Two days?” she asked, shocked.

“Yup! But don’t worry, I came back here and told your mom that you had gone away on a very sudden vacation, so they wouldn’t get worried.”

“Thank you,” she answered, and he simply nodded, before he used his instant transmission to leave Bulma alone with Vegeta.

She went back to the bed, sitting down on the edge to gaze at her beloved’s face.

She couldn’t get enough of staring at him, as a part of her was still too stunned to understand that she had actually succeeded, had actually managed to pull him back from Hell so she can have him back in her life.

One of her hands began to trace a lazy trail up his exposed arm, as she noted the frayed blue tank top and thin blue pants that clothed his amazing body.

His hands and feet were bare, and she gently held one of his hands in hers, twining their fingers together, relishing the warmth of his skin and giddily appreciating how large his hands were compared to hers.

She heard a soft noise coming from downstairs, distracting her from her perusal of her newly-revived Saiyan lover.

Reluctantly, she left her room, heading down to the kitchen where she heard her mother fussing around, making a late-night snack.

“Hi mom,” she called softly.

Panchy turned to her, her face pleasantly surprised. “Baby! You’re back! How was your trip? You look so tired!”

Bulma smiled. “I am exhausted mom. But I am extremely happy.”

“Oh? Was the trip fun, then?”

“Not really _fun,_ but it was successful,” Bulma began. “You’re not going to believe this mom… Vegeta… Vegeta’s alive.”

The silverware that Panchy had been holding fell from her hands, clanking loudly onto the floor as she spun in shock. “What? How?”

Bulma kept smiling, tears of joy brimming from her eyes. “It doesn’t matter how, mom. He’s alive.”

“Oh Bulma! I am so happy for you!” Panchy said, rushing to her and giving her a huge, happy hug. “How is he? Where is he? Will he be dropping by?”

“Actually, I was hoping we could let him live here for a while,” Bulma said. “May I let him use one of the guest rooms?”

“Of course! I will have the helpers clean up one of the largest ones tomorrow. Oh Bulma, I am really very happy!”

Bulma stayed in the kitchen for a few more minutes, speaking to her mother about Vegeta’s living arrangements, before she finally bade her good night, then headed back up to her bedroom.

As soon as she opened her door, her eyes immediately searched for Vegeta.

He was stirring, and she ran over to him, sitting beside him to help him sit up.

He groaned lightly as he sat, and she pulled him close to her, letting him lean lightly against her as she held him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Are you hungry? Do you want anything?” she asked, and he simply shook his head.

He looked up, gazing into her eyes, before raising one of his hands to clasp her to him so that he could press his forehead to hers.

They sat there in silence for several minutes, until he finally sighed, closing his eyes, reaching up to tangle one of his hands in her long blue hair.

He still looked so tired, and Bulma realized that it must be a side effect of having his powers so rapidly sucked out of him, permanently.

She took a deep, shaky breath, before she spoke.

“Vegeta,” she began. “I’m sorry.”

He opened his eyes at that, staring questioningly at her.

“You… you died. And now, you’re back, but at a price. You lost your powers,” she paused, feeling sadness for his loss washing over her. “You had to give up your legacy, and it’s because of me. I’m sorry.”

He grinned gently, stroking her hair tenderly as he pulled back so he could watch her.

She sniffed. “I know that it is something you can never get back even if you trained hard, because Dabura took the power to ascend from you. And I know that the Super Saiyan means so much to you. I’m sorry, Vegeta-”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Bulma. Everything that occurred here was because of me. None of this was your fault. If anything, your being here was the best thing that could have ever happened.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“If you had not been the Blue Moon,” he began, “and I did not feel strongly for you, then I would have taken my price, defeated Frieza… and then, what? Lead my army of three men?”

She giggled.

“But still,” she insisted. “I am sorry that you had to give up so much.”

Vegeta just grinned at her again. “Pay it no heed,” he said. “I have gained so much, so much more, than what I have lost.”

Bulma furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious, woman?” he asked, tightening his arm around her, pulling her close.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, softly stroking her skin, before he planted a slow, sweet kiss onto her lips, an unbelievably tender touch that had Bulma melting steadily into his arms as she gave in to the sensations of his loving embrace.

He pulled away, far too quickly, then said, “I have you. And that is all I need.”

That night, as they left gentle, innocent caresses upon each other’s bodies before finally falling asleep in each other’s arms, they became more sure of the fact that truly, all they needed in the world, was each other.

8-8-8-8-8

The following morning was, in a word, extraordinary.

The Saiyans flew into Capsule Corp like Dabura himself was nipping at their feet.

She and Vegeta had been expecting them, and they waited, seated on the couch, until the two humongous men burst into Capsule Corp, calling out to Vegeta.

Nappa had been near hysterical in his delight, embracing Vegeta as he was unable to contain his happiness at seeing his Prince alive, once again.

He and Raditz thanked Bulma profusely, unable to believe that she had braved entering the Spirit World to retrieve Vegeta’s soul.

Goku arrived less than an hour later via his instant transmission, bringing with him a small child of about four years old. The boy was basically a miniature of him, save for his even more unruly hair, which Goku had laughed about, saying that the boy’s strange weave frustrated his wife to no end, as well.

Gohan, Goku’s child, was a well-behaved boy, and Bulma had cooed endlessly when he went up to Vegeta, did a quick, small bow with a fist held tightly to the left side of his chest, and with his little voice, said, “I am honored to stand before you, your Highness.”

 Vegeta, who had been smiling, suddenly sobered.

“What do you know of me, boy?” he asked Gohan, and Bulma stiffened, knowing what this was going to be about.

Gohan answered quickly. “You are the Prince of the Saiyans. The most powerful Saiyan born within a thousand years. The legendary Super Saiyan.”

Goku beamed with pride at his son, before he noticed Vegeta’s suddenly cheerless mood.

“Prince Vegeta, is everything alright?” Goku asked.

Vegeta turned to him, eyes heavy. “Don’t call me that. I no longer deserve it.”

All three full Saiyans started protesting loudly at those words.

Vegeta calmly held a hand up, silencing them.

“Listen well, all of you,” Vegeta began. “I am no longer the legendary Super Saiyan. To come back to the land of the living, the King of Hell asked me to give up my powers, my ability to ascend. Now, I am but an ordinary Saiyan warrior.”

His words were met with stunned silence.

Vegeta continued. “As of right now, Kakarot,” he inclined his head to Goku, “is the only remaining Super Saiyan. As he is now the most powerful amongst us, I would have no objections, should you decide to make him our new ruler.”

Goku stared in shock, gaping openly at Vegeta, before he forcefully shook his head, fists clenching at his sides.

“No way!” Goku cried. “No way, Prince! I can’t ever rule over anybody. Besides, this is ridiculous!”

Bulma watched as Goku came to sit beside Vegeta on the couch.

He leaned forward, clapping a hand onto Vegeta’s shoulder, before speaking again.

“Look,” he said. “Super Saiyan is a legend. It is an amazing legend that you were the first one to attain, after a thousand Saiyan ages. It doesn’t matter to us if you lost it. In spirit, you are still _the_ Super Saiyan. And you will always be our Prince.”

“He speaks the truth!” Nappa cried, fists clenched, raised as if ready to defend his Prince’s honor. “You are Prince Vegeta, who led us to countless victories. The golden haired form is but a symbol. You _are_ the Super Saiyan.”

“I agree,” Raditz piped up. “Kakarot may have the power now, but the power was truly yours first. We follow only you, your Highness.”

Vegeta looked at Goku, Nappa and Raditz with eyes full of respect. He raised his hand to clasp Goku’s shoulder, before he smirked at the younger man, then turned his eyes to all three.

“Thank you, men.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma didn’t think she had ever been so happy, her entire life.  

Vegeta was back, truly back, and she marveled at the very subtle differences between his cursed from that he had been in before his death by Frieza, and his true mortal form now.

It was his first day as a real mortal after three decades, and one of the first things that Bulma realized was that the bottomless pit that was the Saiyan stomach truly was inherent to everyone in their race.

He had not been that keen on food before, only taking a few bites to taste, before he left. Now, in his full form, Vegeta ate as much as the three other Saiyans, and even Goku’s little half-Saiyan son was decimating the food at a faster rate than Bulma had ever witnessed.

It was like having a front-row seat to an elite food-eating contest of some sort.

Her parents were only too accommodating, providing Vegeta with food, lodging and anything else that he may need. Panchy had outdone herself as she prepared an increasingly varied selection of food from morning until night.

Her father had even opened up Capsule 4, surprising her when he said that he had actually managed to do some upgrades while she was in the midst of her depression.

Dr. Briefs had apparently watched some of the footage of the training, and from there had easily deduced – and heard, from their incessant training chatter – that the “military men” were not normal humans, at all. He adjusted the settings to suit them, thinking of inviting them all again someday to use the upgraded Gravity Chamber.

The four Saiyans had immediately gone into Capsule 4, and Bulma watched from the cameras as they went at it again, and she noticed a relaxed sort of camaraderie in their sparring now that they weren’t training for the possible last battle of their lives.

Vegeta was still in his usual perfect fighting form, and though Bulma could clearly see the differences in the force behind his ki blasts, she was happy to see that his raw power was still there, still leading their group in terms of fighting style and tactics.

He was, truly, a Prince of a warrior race.

Little Gohan stayed with Bulma, not yet mature enough to be part of the rough housing in Capsule 4, and she was delighted to see that he was showing a lot of interest in her books and inventions, and was actually able to grasp more advanced ideas, at the tender age of four.

Perhaps, one of these days, she should find a way to meet his mother. This boy was a smart one, and she would be glad to help give him the finest education that money can buy.

As the day drew to a close, the four fighters exited Capsule 4, all clearly happy with their training.

Bulma didn’t even feel bad that Vegeta had spent several hours holed up with his men, because she understood that these people were his comrades in arms, who had been with him through life and death situations, and they had a powerful bond that was forged by countless hours of fighting, thriving and surviving.

It also did not hurt that, as soon as the three men had turned their backs, Vegeta had pulled her in, leaving a small, affectionate kiss on her forehead.

She also didn’t mind that his sweat had rubbed all over her chest as he hugged her, since it was the surest sign that he was truly, fully mortal now.

After dinner, Goku, Gohan, Raditz and Nappa left, and Bulma smiled at Vegeta as she looked fondly at him, standing at the large balcony overlooking their enormous backyard, arms crossed as he watched his men fly off to go back home.

She sauntered slowly to him, and he turned to her with a small grin, stretching his arm out invitingly.

She took the cue, running up to him and laying her head on his shoulder while his arm curled around her, and they both looked up at the rapidly retreating forms of his men.

“Thank you for letting my men stay here today,” he whispered to her. “It was… refreshing, having them here with no pressure of death or invasion looming close.”

She smiled. “I figured that, with the lives you have all led, it was very unlikely that you had ever just hung out together. I understand.”

His arm around her tightened. “But now, I have you all to myself,” he said, and she could feel the smirk on his face before she even turned to see the said smirk.

“Nuh-uh,” she said, lifting a hand to bop the tip of his nose. “You’re wrong. Now, _I_ have _you_ to myself.”

He laughed, and Bulma placed a hand on his chest to feel the vibrations caused by his glee.

“So you do,” he said, eyebrow raised in challenge. “What do you intend to do with me, then?”

“Oh, believe me…” she purred, “there are a _lot_ of things I wish to do with you tonight.”

8-8-8-8-8

Panchy had taken Vegeta aside to show him the room that she had arranged for him. As he left, he had kissed Bulma lightly before saying that he needed to take a short bath to clean off the day’s sweat, so he would do that in his new chambers.

She had been genuinely curious if he knew how to work a shower, and he had cockily stated that she could join him if she wished, just to see if he was doing it right.

Oh, how she wanted to, but her father chose that inopportune moment to pull her aside, and from his serious tone, Bulma knew better than to argue.

“Bulma,” he father said. “Those people are not human.”

It was not a question.

She sighed. “No dad… They are not. Will that be a problem?”

“Well, not to me,” he said. “But from what I understand, Vegeta is quite new here. If you intend to house him here, we need him to have an identity, don’t we?”

“I will see what I can do about that,” she smiled. “Thanks, dad.”

She dealt with a few text messages and emails that she missed from work the previous day, before she went up to her room, intent on taking a quick shower before she went and visited Vegeta.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma was already planning her attire as she scrubbed her body, thinking of a particular set of matching lingerie that really framed her boobs perfectly and made her stomach look amazingly sculpted.

She wanted to look absolutely irresistible, to be the most beautiful woman he would ever see.

Bulma wanted to blow Vegeta’s mind… among _other_ things.

She wrapped herself up in her towel, then quickly rushed to her counter to run a brush through her blue hair. She did her best to dry it up a little with her hair dryer so that it wouldn’t sop up the sexy underwear that she was going to wear tonight.

She left her personal bathroom excitedly, giddy at the prospect of her perfect night with her perfect man, when she stopped, dead in her tracks, at the sight that greeted her.

She apparently had not been quick enough with her shower, because as soon as she stepped back into her bedroom, she stood stunned as she found none other than Vegeta, standing at the foot of her bed, arms crossed as he waited for her to finish her bath.

He was shirtless, wearing only a thin pair of tight shorts, and a very mischievous grin. Her eyes greedily roved over his amazing body, lingering on the chiseled planes of his hard chest, and the abdominal muscles that looked as if they were meticulously shaped by the gods themselves.

The lines of his arms stood out, the thick, corded muscles there flexing slightly as he dropped his arms to rest at his sides. She watched his arms sway as he began to move, walking with sinuously deliberate steps, towards her.

The lines framing his thick thighs were clearly visible through his scant clothing, and she was mesmerized as she stared at his precise movements, the sight of his powerful legs as they coiled with his motions irresistibly hypnotic.

Her eyes flew up to his face, and she noted the strong set of his jaw, the straight line of his nose, and his pitch black eyes, darkened further by his electrifying intent.

“Vegeta,” she gasped as he came upon her, pinning her to the wall with his rock-hard body, one of his hands savagely ripping away her fluffy pink towel before his hands took hold of her waist, grasping it tightly, possessively.

She was lost for words, struck dumb by the intensity of his gaze, and before she could gather her thoughts, his mouth descended upon hers, hungrily swallowing her gasp of surprised pleasure as he moved his lips against her own.

His kiss was exhilarating, maddening, and Bulma raised her hands, wrapping them around his back as she desperately tried to cling to him, her knees buckling at the raw passion in his urgent touch.

He plundered her mouth, and Bulma keened in the back of her throat as she felt sharp fangs tickle the edges of her tongue, fangs that seemed sharper ever since he was brought back to life.

It excited her, the sharpness of his canines hinting at a more animalistic side of him that she had yet to witness. The sharp points of his teeth made her think that if she pressed against them too hard, it would be a lot like how it would feel to **_prick her finger on a spindle_**.

His hands travelled lower, and she felt him cup her buttocks, eagerly grabbing hold, pressing his fingers against the part where her butt met her thighs.

She felt him hitch her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he pressed even harder against her.

She ground her exposed core against his lower stomach, writhing against him while her lips followed his lead, their kiss now a sensuous clash of tongue and teeth, their need for each other becoming increasingly evident by how tightly they clung to the other’s body.

He finally pulled her away from the wall, easily lifting her, and she held tighter onto his back and neck as he knelt at the edge of her bed, slowly lowering her onto her back until her torso was flat against her sheets while her legs hung over the end.

He pressed gently onto her shoulders as he pulled away, and Bulma stared into his flushed face, his manic eyes that were trained solely onto hers.

“Bulma,” he rasped, and she felt his fingers slowly dance across her flesh, tickling her stomach and the sides of her breast, reverently hovering over her as his eyes stayed glued to her blue orbs.

“Vegeta… I am so happy that you are back,” she whispered, letting her own fingers trace over the hard lines of his body, unable to believe that this flawless creature was here, for her.

He smiled, a gentle smile that filled her heart with unimaginable gladness, before he lowered his head to rain small kisses along her face.

She giggled at his caress, treasuring each kiss, nip and lick that he bestowed upon her, and she moaned softly as he began to move lower, his mouth leaving increasingly heated touches until he was sucking lustfully at her throat.

He groaned against her when she raised her hips to rub her core against him once more.

She was desperate to have him fill her once again, but she wanted, needed, to feel his touch all over her body as well.

His hand cupped her breast, running his thumb over her nipple, and she arched her back towards him, pressing herself to him, wanting his touch branded onto her skin.

Vegeta’s mouth continued to go lower, until she felt his sinful mouth cover the tip of her breast.

“Oh, Vegeta!” she moaned hoarsely, her hands reaching down to tangle in his hair and scratch lightly at his nape.

“Bulma,” she heard him whisper, before he moved his attentions to her other breast.

She rubbed as much of herself against him as she could, and he too began grinding his rapidly swelling erection down against her core.

She hissed in delight, pushing against him, wanting to feel that hardness more acutely.

She groaned in frustration when he lifted himself off her, and she watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he stood back, his eyes devouring every inch of her nude body with lascivious intent.

“I…” she stuttered, drawing his roving eyes to her face. “I wanted to wear something nice for you tonight. I wanted tonight to be for you. I wanted it to be perfect.”

His face was solemn, as he regarded her, before he lowered his hands to grasp her hips, thumbs gently soothing over her hip bones.

“It _is_ perfect, Bulma. You…” he said, his voice a low, wistful growl that made her heart leap into her throat. “ _You_ are nothing less than perfection.”

With those words, he lowered himself to her again, kissing her lips with rising fervor, and Bulma gasped in pleasure when she felt his thick fingers begin to trace lazy patterns around her inner thighs.

She spread her legs wider, willing him to touch her where her body was aching, crying for him.

She didn’t need to say anything further, as the tips of his fingers wandered to her slit, carefully stroking her plump nether lips , making her cry out in anticipation.

“Please, Vegeta… touch me,” she whined as he pulled away from her mouth, and she cried out as she felt one of his fingers begin to breach her.

He immediately searched for her nub of desire, letting the pad of his finger smooth over it, making her hips push needily onto his palm. After a few moments, two of his fingers began to move into her, and Bulma moaned long and low as he started to slowly pump his digits in and out of her, stroking her walls and making her shudder with desire.

“Oh… Oh! Vegeta,” she gasped, his name leaving her lips like a wistful prayer.

His face was close to hers, and she could hear his harsh breaths blowing across her lips as he panted, his building desire making him shine with a soft sheen of sweat.

She turned her head to him, looking into his eyes as she moaned, trying to keep her eyes open so she could watch him as he watched her.

“Let me hear you, Bulma,” he said, and she groaned, her desire stoked further by the need she could see in his eyes.

Her thighs shook from where they hung over the bed, as he pumped his fingers within her faster, and she held onto him longingly as he moved away from her arms, so he could hover over her core, watching his hand move within her.

“So wet… so beautiful,” she heard him whisper, before she felt his hot breath blow over her core.

Bulma cried out as she felt his mouth move closer to her, and she rolled her hips invitingly, urging him to kiss her intimately.

His lips touched her lower lips, and she keened, hands fisting into the sheets beneath her as she ground her core closer to him.

She felt his breath overwhelm her as he tasted her, and she heard his own voice groan as she yelped from the sudden onslaught of sensation.

He licked her, kissed her, caressed her so thoroughly that her chest heaved with the efforts to help her heartbeats catch up, and she bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood when he began sucking on her clit.

“Vegeta!” she cried out, “Oh… that feels _so_ good!”

He grasped her hips in his hands, swinging her legs to rest over his shoulders as he surged forward, until his mouth covered her core entirely, taking her pleasure and feeding it with his own.

She shuddered, her hands releasing her death grip on the sheets to once again tangle with the thick strands of his hair, and she tenderly caressed the sides of his face, feeling his jaw work as he continued to eat her out as if she was the finest feast that the universe had to offer.

One of his hands snaked up, grasping the side of her waist, before crawling further up to grab her breast.

She could feel him everywhere, touching her, caressing her, intimately kissing her, and as the sensations became too much , too painfully delicious for her to handle, Bulma threw her head back, screaming her pleasure as she convulsed in his hands, quaking from the rapture of her release.

He still kept licking her as her pleasure flowed from her core, and she tried to sit up, eyes wide with her own need to touch him.

“Stop, please, Vegeta… I want to taste you, too,” she asked, her voice hoarse with desire.

He moved away from her with one last reluctant lick, pulling another long moan from her, before he straightened before her, his hands holding her own as he stood.

Bulma sat at the very edge of her bed as she stared at him, practically salivating as she noted the large tent formed by his cock straining beneath his shorts.

She slowly pulled her hands from his, before she clutched his waistband, her fingers dancing along the edges where the cloth met his skin.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly began to peel his shorts off, and she watched with baited breath as he was revealed to her starving gaze.

His manhood stood proudly, his girth superbly full, and she almost came once again from the sheer _want_ that filled her as she stared, amazed by the beauty of his naked body.

She had seen him nude before, of course… but she didn’t think she would ever stop marveling at how amazing he truly was, how perfect every inch of him was, and how that splendid body was hers, _hers,_ to hold and love.

His shorts fell unceremoniously to the ground as she released it, and he kicked it away, waiting patiently as she reached for him.

He groaned gutturally as soon as her fingers wrapped around him, and she immediately held him tenderly with one hand, the other travelling down to the heavy sacks underneath.

She pumped him slowly, leisurely, and she glanced up at him as she pleasured him, noting with glee that a dark flush had already begun to take over his face and upper chest, his brow growing damp with sweat.

He was watching her, eyes narrowed in his pleasure, and she realized that he wanted to see her as she touched him, and she thought, perhaps, she should give him a show.

She licked her lips slowly, narrowing her eyes seductively as she, very slowly, let her lips move closer and closer to his turgid length.

He began moaning softly as her bottom lip touched him, and the sound escalated into a growl when she finally let her lips envelope his tip.

His hands flew to her head, clutching handfuls of her hair, and Bulma hummed against him as she began to slacken her jaw to take him into her mouth.

“Bulma!” he gasped, and she looked up at him through her lashes, meeting his eyes as she sucked at his head, licked his length, blew softly over his tip…

She worked him with her mouth, tongue and hands, gently squeezing his balls, and he threw his head back, finally breaking their gaze as he released a strangled shout.

She moaned against him, feeling dizzy with desire from the feel of him on her palms and tongue. She very lightly scraped her teeth against the underside of him, and he cried out, shaking violently, and she reached one hand up to hold his firm buttocks in place as she sucked harder on him.

He pulled more desperately on her hair, and she moved away, her lips making a small smacking sound as she pulled her mouth away from him.

She looked up, and she noticed that both of them were breathing hard. His eyes were narrowed into near slits as he reached down and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her up with him until they were in the very center of her bed.

He swooped down, giving her a ravenous kiss that made her insides quiver, his hands wandering over her body once again.

She felt him move his legs so they were between her parted ones, and she shuddered bodily as she felt his manhood press against her throbbing core.

“Vegeta,” she gasped between his kisses. “I need you.”

He nodded, capturing her lips again while she felt him nudge softly against her core, and he very slowly began to enter her.

The feel of him as he slid into her was staggering in its intensity, and she couldn’t help the soft cry that escaped her as he moved deeper and deeper into her. He was touching her body in its most secret, intimate places, while the darkness of his eyes boring into her reached into her soul to calm the raging fires that he had stoked, the same flames of desire that he alone could control.

She moaned raggedly as he was finally fully seated into her, a lone tear of incredible happiness leaking from the side of her eye as she looked at his most beloved face.

Bulma reached for him, letting her fingers trace the curve of his lips, the straight line of his nose, the puckered wrinkle between his eyes.

She smiled, her heart full as she felt him throb incessantly inside her, pulsing along with every beat of her heart.

She loved him so much. Her heart, mind, body and soul were all his to command, and she knew, from the very depths of her, that no one would ever mean as much to her as he did.

She smiled, dropping a short, breathless kiss on his parted lips, before the sensations he stirred within her finally made her say the words…

“I love you,” she whispered, and her heart melted at the sincere look of adoration in his eyes.

“As do I… my Bulma…” he said softly, before he leaned up, raising himself up with this hands, and began to move.

She moaned from the feel of him sliding in and out of her, and in no time at all, she was moving with him, lifting her hips, undulating beneath him as she tried with desperation to meet his maddening thrusts.

He reared back, and she felt his arms go under her legs, scooping and pushing them up so that the backs of her thighs were slung over his arms.

His fists were curled tightly into the sheets, and she moved her hands so they held on to his hips, stroking his strong body as he rode her into ecstasy. 

Bulma keened, screamed, moaned at his attentions, and she moved to hold on to his thick neck, arching her back so that she could reach his face and kiss his gorgeous lips.  

He released her legs, and she immediately wrapped them around his waist, so she can welcome him closer within her arms.

He kissed her with unbridled passion, and as he moved away from her lips, she clung to his back with both arms, burying her face into the side of his neck to nip and lick at the curve of his shoulder.

His sweat tasted like nectar on her tongue, and she groaned at the feel and taste of him, urging him to go faster, deeper, harder within her.

He complied eagerly, and soon, she felt that inexplicably delicious coil of sensation curling within the pit of her stomach, waiting for that moment of perfect bliss so that it could be released.

“Vegeta,” she moaned, needy and breathless from the feelings he evoked within her. “Vegeta, I’m so close… I’m so close...”

“Ah!” he cried out, overwhelmed by the feel of her surrounding him in every way. “Yes. Cum for me, Bulma.”

“Ohhhh,” she whined, closing her eyes against the incredible pleasure. “Yes! I’m almost… I’m… oh!”

He moved even harder against her, hands reaching to crush her against him as he whispered hoarsely in her ear…

“I love you…”

The feel of his body, coupled with the intense feeling behind his words, made Bulma snap, and she screamed as her body shattered, her pleasure unfurling with explosive intensity as the most incredible climax took over, robbing her of coherent thought, making her lose sight of everything but the man who was loving her with his very soul.

She tightened her arms around him as she heard him release a guttural shout, and she felt the warmth of his release fill her, sluicing slowly down her parted thighs as he shuddered in the midst of his climax.

This… this was bliss. And this perfect moment was her ultimate prize.

She was finally, truly complete.

It took them a while to recover their breaths, and Vegeta was the first to move, leaning over her to push her bangs away from her face, giving her a searing kiss that spoke of all the love and affection that he held for her, all the care and devotion that he wished to shower her with for all the years to come.

Bulma smiled up at him, placing a hand against his cheek, her palm running along the sharp angle of his jaw.

“My Prince,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the depth of her feelings.

And he smiled back, placing a lingering kiss on her mouth. “My Bulma.”

8-8-8-8-8

_Next Chapter: Epilogue._


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: It was, as all fairy tales went… A Prince, his Princess, and their happily ever after.
> 
> Entry for the @tpthvegebulmayhem, Week 4 (Part 4 of 4).
> 
> Challenge: Tragedy turned HEA
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part 4 of my Week 4 entry, and is the last chapter of The Final Price. I hope you have enjoyed reading this story, as I really did have a great time writing this as part of the Mayhem.  
> I wish to thank you all again, for the support that you all gave, that helped this story win. I never, in a million years, would have imagined that anything I write could have won amongst all the amazing writers in this fandom. I will never, ever forget this. :)  
> Thank you so much for reading, and as always, your feedback would be greatly appreciated!

If there was ever a time when Vegeta felt terrible for losing his Super Saiyan powers, then it had to be around… _now_.

Usually, the loss of the legendary powers was an annoying afterthought, especially since he was still powerful even without his golden haired form.

It was definitely not easy to get used to the idea that he was no longer the most powerful Saiyan alive, but it was one of those things that became easier to swallow, with time.

After all, it had been three years.

He had been brought back to life, with the imposed limitations on his Saiyan powers, three years ago.

And so, yes, the loss was annoying, but it wasn’t truly the devastating blow that he would have imagined it to be.

Right at that moment though, Vegeta would have given away an arm, to be able to use his Instant Transmission again.

The Prince of a warrior race of four and a half flew as fast as he was physically able, an otherwise impressive speed that could easily leave jet planes and commercial aircrafts in the dust.

He still felt too fucking _slow_.

Bulma needed him, and he was still thirty seconds away.

His beautiful wife of a year and a half needed him, and he couldn’t get there fast enough.

He could feel her distress through their bond, could hear her voice calling out for him in his head.

Ten seconds.

In spite of his worry, he grinned.

Soon, he would be the Prince of four and _two_ halves.

His son was to be born today.

He landed on their balcony a second after that thought, and he rushed to Bulma, immediately embracing her swollen body in his arms.

“Vegeta, let’s go!” she whined, already holding the emergency bag that he had meticulously packed for her as soon as he had found out that the pregnancy was heading towards its last week.

“Yes, my Princess,” he smirked, taking the bag from her before gently lifting her off her feet. He flew them to the hovercraft waiting in the garage downstairs, calmly setting her inside, before he sat beside her and engaged the autopilot, leading them to the Capsule Corp Hospital a few hundred meters away.

In reality, she could have gone there by herself.

But they had spoken about this, and the plan had been the same since they first saw that tiny “plus” sign appear on the home pregnancy test.

They would go to the hospital, together.

It had been an unfortunate coincidence that it had to be _today,_ on the day that he was in a secondary Capsule Corp production factory about a hundred kilometers away, inspecting the new experimental space pods that they would be debuting to the military in a month.

After his return to the living realm, Bulma had fabricated an Earthling identity for him and given him a job at their company, testing out experimental military gadgets and training modules.

He was nigh indestructible, so he had been perfect for the job.

It was not until a few months later that Bulma had realized that he would also be a great asset in the research team for space mechanics, and she had given him a second job there, to act as a consultant for their then fledgling deep space endeavors.

Together, he and Bulma had refined her earlier plans for hyperspace travel, using her high-density energy core that they had further developed after she saw how effective it had been in powering up her blaster gun.

They launched their first deep space prototype sixteen months ago, and it had been a success.

Bulma had felt that they owed much of their triumph and happiness to his fellow Saiyans, and thus, she had been very generous towards his men, as well.

She had given Goku a large plot of land for his farming, and was paying to send little Gohan to a nearby Science academy.

As for Raditz - who had been a lumberjack and space explorer for Nappa before Vegeta had come to Earth - Bulma had pulled some strings to get the rather good-looking bloke a job as a movie stunt-man. Last that Vegeta had heard, he had gotten popular enough that he was about to be a side character for a long-running television series about half-naked ancient Earth warriors.

Nappa had been given access to purchase any of Capsule Corps’ car models weeks before their official release, and the bald man was using his new rides to pick up a new woman every Saturday night.

His men were doing well, and, as their Prince, Vegeta was satisfied.

Life was good…

He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Bulma squeezing his hand, and he turned to her, a small, but excited smile on his face.

Their son was coming.

As soon as they landed in the Emergency Room gate, he leapt out, grabbed the bag, then carried Bulma carefully towards the Admission Area.

“Mr. Vegeta!” the receptionist exclaimed as soon as they came within view. “Is Ms. Bulma-”

“She’s gonna give birth. Get me her doctor, now,” he snarled, heralding the mad rush as the members of the staff realized that one of the owners of the hospital they were working at was about to go into labor.

Bulma squeezed Vegeta’s neck as she clung to him, and he sensed her pain through their soul bond that he had reinforced when they became true mates.

“Vegetaaa…” she whined, her voice a pained whisper in his ear, and he clutched her tighter as a wheelchair was brought before them.

“Mr. Vegeta, we have to place Ms. Bulma into the wheelchair so we can take her to the Delivery Room,” one of the nurses said, and Vegeta snarled as a male nurse came up to try to help him move her.

“I can put her down myself,” he said, gently sitting his wife down onto the wheelchair.

“Vegeta, don’t be rude,” she chastised, punctuating her gentle scolding with a groan of discomfort.

He blanched. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, then shook her head. “It hurts.”

He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I will be right here with you, all the way.”

What happened next was a bit of a blur to him, as Bulma yelped, and a group of nurses rushed to her, clamoring to move her to the Delivery Room.

He followed her, lost in a slight daze, until they wheeled her into the sterile areas of the Labor and Delivery Unit, and a security guard stopped him at the entryway.

“I am her husband,” he barked, and he must have unwittingly released some ki, as he noted the terrified face of the guard.

“Yes sir, I am aware, but you cannot go into that area without wearing protective gear,” the guard said, pointing at a small table that held a bunch of masks and paper gowns.

After Vegeta had impatiently worn all of the required items, he marched into the room where they had taken Bulma, surprised at how quickly things had escalated in his short absence.

Bulma was already pushing, and the nurses looked harried, racing around the room and shouting at each other about “catching” the baby.  From what he could see, the child was trying to move out of his mother’s womb faster than any other human child, and Bulma was struggling to keep up.

He reached for her hand, letting her clutch his powerful fingers as tightly as she could, while he placed his other hand on her stomach, emitting a very steady, warm glow of ki that seemed to calm the child within.

Bulma took a deep breath of relief, looking at him gratefully, before another contraction hit, and she pushed more intently as the doctor came in.

It all happened too fast, and yet too slow, and Vegeta felt almost dumb as he lost track of what was happening, dizzy from his own worry as his frail wife pushed out a powerful Saiyan hybrid from her fragile body.

One second, she was screaming, and the next, she was crying, as he watched a bloody bundle of flesh leave her body from between her legs, hurriedly caught, washed and clothed by the surrounding medical staff.

He stood still as a statue as one of the nurses came up, holding a tiny, wriggling bundle swaddled in soft blue cloth. She slowly placed it onto Bulma’s chest, and Bulma immediately wrapped her pale, exhausted arms around it…

His son…

That was his son…

The boy was quiet as he opened strangely alert, bright blue eyes, before pushing off a corner of his blanket.

Vegeta’s heart nearly flew out of his chest as he stared mutely at the little boy. He was impossibly small, with a fluffy tuft of purple hair atop his head.

He heard himself laugh, making Bulma turn to him, her eyes tired but blissful.

“Vegeta… Look,” she whispered, moving her arm as if to show off the boy…

The boy sired from his flesh and blood.

The boy who was literally made from their love.

He could feel a tear standing on the edge of his eyes, but he quickly blinked it away, before he leaned down, nuzzling the top of the child’s head, then planting a grateful kiss upon Bulma’s lips.

And he thought then, that he didn’t even begrudge that his life before he had been thrown to Earth had been absolute shit, or that he had already been literally in Hell.

This, right now, was as close to perfect as anything he could imagine.

And for a man like him, this could most definitely be, as they say on Earth… a “happily ever- after”.

8-8-8-8-8

_The End._


End file.
